


Want to be close to you

by JellyFicsnFucks



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Anxiety Attacks, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Haphephobia, Hiatus, Master/Pet, Ownership, Stuttering, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 05:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18067670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyFicsnFucks/pseuds/JellyFicsnFucks
Summary: Fic on hiatus~In a world of Kill or be Killed Uf!Sans has developed a fear of being touched. He wants to please Boss and eventually learn how to have a stable relationship with Grillby.One step at a time... “One hug, Sansy♫, you’re in a rush right?” He lets a smile part the fire of his mouth. It's like whips of teeth that flicker and wave in the wind. It's so rare Grillby smiles, it's actually cute when he does. Sans missed seeing that look. No malice. No hate. Just… Grillby. "NSFW fic 18+ only, Tags have to be updated! Please beware.





	1. Normal Routine

Boss was downstairs having a fit.   
  
Sans came down from the stairs in a hurry. The way the boss was cursing, he’d have guessed and intruder had gotten inside...or that mangy mutt. Either way, the clatter of metal and cursing came from the kitchen. Sans prepared his magic, ready to fight should it come to it. He steadied his hand in the air, staying close to the living room walls to peer over the open arch way.   
  
He lowers his guard immediately, letting a relieved sigh rake his body. His shoulders slump forward when he see’s the black swat suit apron tied around his brother. He’s cooking. That must mean he’s in a good mood. It was better not to get involved.   
  
He starts to move away from the room when he feels his soul sink heavily, blue magic surrounds him. The sensation makes his toes curl, burying his bare feet deep into the carpet strands. The blue magic dances around his soul, whipping around it as though the magic were alive.  
  
There is shallow voice he hears from over his shoulder. It sends a shiver of fear down his spine.  
  
“Brother.”  
  
The words roll off the others tongue. The boss didn’t usually say something so concrete as ‘brother’. Brother included the connotations of a family. Brother was what you would call the warrior standing beside you in battle. It was not the term Sans was used to hearing from his boss. Even his own name had been something that waned fear into his bones.   
  
The boss only spoke this way when he wanted something.   
  
He only used that tone when he needed that extra push to worm his way into Sans’ soul. He knew Sans could never refuse him. Yet he is still cautious of the venomous sentiment. Getting attached to that word would make him appear weak.   
  
“Y-yes Boss?” Sans stutters. He is sure to address Papyrus properly. He doesn't want to mirror the same estranged sentiment. Even if it was sincere, hoping they could be… brothers… might be too hopeful. Besides the boss wanted something.   
  
“I’m baking.”   
  
“I s-see that, you g-g-g-ot flour on the floor.”  
  
“I don’t need your sarcasm. I need chocolate chips.”   
  
Chocolate chi..-! Sans jolts backwards. He was right to be wary. He remembers the old dusted bag of chocolate chips he finished a week ago. It was something untouched and forgotten in the back of the cabinet. He thought it was something he could eat on the sneak over a couple weeks, seeing as how the fridge was ‘not for pets’. Sans wasn’t supposed to eat anything his boss didnt serve him. Shit he was in trouble.   
  
“Well? Don’t just stand there. Run to the store for me. You can do at least that much can’t you?”  
Sans nods his head quickly, unable to speak with the lump of guilt caught in his throat. Boss didn’t know. He just had to go make a quick run to the grocery. He was okay. It was fine.   
  
“Wait... Why are you all sweaty? “   
  
Sans feels his soul being pulled forward. He tries to ground himself to just outside the living room but the force is too strong. His legs drag behind him as Fell pulls him into the kitchen.   
  
“I.. I was.” The boss didn’t know. He had to say something quick. “You- you want me to… go alone? To -to the s-s-s-sstore?!” He can’t help the instant panic that rushes to his voice. Saying it outloud and comprehending it at once.   
  
Boss was sending him out on an errand. Alone. In the middle of the night.   
  
“Whats the problem. Brother.” There’s that venom again. The boss must really need that to complete his recipe. A sharpened claw reaches out towards his face and Sans closes his eyes immediately, wincing at the non existent pain that hasn’t struck him.   
  
He feels the phalange on the crest of his skull, it traces his cheek and curls down the side of his neck. He whimpers, bites down on his tongue to stop himself from crying out. The sensation sent shivers through his body, he feels his hands trembling. Careful not to show his discomfort he digs his hands into the pockets of his jacket. His eyes flutter open, getting a good look at his brother who loomed above him.   
  
“You’re lieing to me...brother.” He knows and despite the level tone Sans knows his boss’s patience is very thin. Very dangerous.  
  
Boss knew he hated being touched.   
  
He hated that feeling of serrated bone crossing his own.  
  
It was only permissible when they were in the bedroom… and even that felt like burning alive. Like pins had driven into his throat and into his soul and he couldnt escape… it was worse than the entrapment of blue magic. He couldn’t move and he couldn’t breath and he couldn’t think...but it was okay…  
  
It was okay because the only time boss touched him was when he wanted to get off. And that was easy to deal with. Sans could use his mouth or his hands and if he did good, he wouldn’t have to endure those scrupulous digits all over his body. Twisting, rubbing, pushing, pulling.   
  
He shudders in place.   
  
His eyes fix on the dark red of his brothers eyes. It seems that's exactly what Fell wanted because the moment he does his brothers hardened face falls into a smirk.   
  
“Did you spend your allowance at Grillby’s? Brother? Is that why you can’t go to the store? Did you spend all my hard earned money on liquor?”   
  
“N-no!”   
  
He has to force the words up quickly or else Fell will just assume that's correct and punish him without a single way for Sans to protest.   
  
He feels the curt tug of blue magic pull him to his knees and dissipate. He knows it wouldn't be wise to stand so he looks up at his brother who looms above him.The smirk on his face growing twice as large.   
  
He enjoyed this.   
  
It was like a game. Where did Sans fuck up this time? Will he break and tell him or will Papyrus guess what it was and punish him? Either way, Sans was not getting out of this unscathed. From the kitchen counter tops he spots a plethora of ‘weapons’ that would leave more than just a sting.   
  
The whisk could raise welts across his sensitive bones. The rolling pin can make a dent in the side of his skull, or crack it like an egg… Maybe the boss would want to use it for its intended purpose and ask Sans to lay his hands flat on the table as he crushes his fingers with the heavy wooden cylinder.   
  
Even the bowls seemed like something that would hurt. The porcelain would shatter at impact and cause tiny cuts everywhere.The oven door could be used to batter him again and again until he cried. The spoons could be shoved between his fingernails and make him scream to stop…   
  
He didnt even want to think about all the knives Boss had.  
One for every occasion. Butter knives, boning knives, paring knives, carving knives, slicing knives, bread knives, those giant fucking cleavers that hung as a decorative piece over the sink…  
  
“Where are you looking? I asked you a question.”   
  
A question? Sans’ mind races. He hadn’t heard anything of the sort. He hadn’t been focused on the conversation, his mind was already trying to brace him for the punishment coming. Would asking him to repeat his question only further anger boss? Would it be pointless to do so if he was going to punish him anyway?  
  
Those sharpened fingers loop around the hook in his collar.   
  
“You’re mine.” Boss whispers. His possessiveness only ever showing in the confines of their home. “Everyone knows that. No one will dare attack you if you go out alone. Understand?”   
  
Sans quickly nods his head. It doesn't matter if he understands or not, when the boss asks him he demands an immediate response.   
  
“Good. So don't be so nervous brother. You can run errands by yourself. You used to do it all the time… hurry back now.” Fell stands back up, with his tall foreboding presence blotting out the light in the kitchen. As he stands he also pulls up on the collar around Sans’ neck. Sans scrambles to his feet before he’s choked by the thick leather.   
  
He’s not sure what was said… but it looks like Fell was letting him go. For now.   
  
Which was good.   
  
Sans backs up from the kitchen. Slowly. Careful not to arouse any mistrust between himself and his boss again. He turns his back once he feels the soft carpet on his heels once more. By the door his sneakers lied unlaced and in the same spot he had kicked them off. Fell had long since stopped trying to tidy up after him.   
  
Honestly it was nice to find his things right where he had left them. It felt like he had left a mark on the house, one that said ‘Hey. I exist. I also live here.’ Though that bold statement also meant to boss ‘Hey. That shit bag is home. He should clean this up.’ And if it was ever a stain… like that mustard splotch that won't come out of of the sofa well…   
  
Well… Sans was just glad his shoes were there.   
  
He stomps his foot into each one, not bothering to tie them. He never does. Sans stands in the doorway for a moment and looks at boss. There’s an empty click in his head when he realises he won't be needing a leash to go outside. That he will be on his own. It feels so foreign to him. He’s been left alone on sentry duty tons of times… he’d walked around Snowdin and up to the ruins. He’d follow the kid up until they made it to waterfall and reset… Going outside wasn’t such a new thing to him and yet…  
  
Boss was the one who would walk him to his station. Boss was the one who would stalk in front of him as he walked in Snowdin. When he’d been in the ruins, Toriel kept him company. When he was in Waterfall, the guard, and Undyne always kept watch of him.   
  
… It was the dead of the night.   
  
Monsters only went out at this time to start fights. They only went out to look for free exp and get revenge on monsters stupid enough to sleep without their guard up. Sans was by no means weak. He could carry himself in a fight. He had to for many years to protect himself and his boss growing up.  
  
But that didn't mean monsters wouldn’t attack him anyway. They just needed one cheap shot to get him begging for mercy.   
  
Would monsters respect him purely because of his collar? Boss had earned the respect of the royal guard… mostly, but there were many monsters who would kill to expose his weaknesses. Monsters who would love to dangle the helpless Sans like bait and make Papyrus beg or pay for him back. Sans was already a burden… being used as ransom would be worse. Would Boss even come for him?   
  
“Times wasting.” Sans can hear the tut of his teeth from across the room. “Come back in five minutes or don't bother coming home.”  
  
“Y-Yeus!” Sans bites his tongue. He unlocks the first two bolts on the door by hand and uses his magic to move the ones higher up. Before he can hear his brother yell again he’s already out the house, running towards the little shop across Snowdin.   
  
It's cold. It's always cold in Snowdin, but the nights have a chill to them with the downpour of wind that bounces around the cavern walls somewhere far off in the distance. The wind feels like enough to push him over onto his side.   
  
The furry lining inside his hood doesn't do much to protect his face from the harsh winds but it creates a layer of warmth that he feels quickly draining from his bones.   
  
Each step he takes in the heavy nightly cover of snow makes his sneakers sink deeper into the ground, filling with the soft powder that melts into his heel and makes him shiver in place.   
  
The lights of the stores downtown are on. The orange from its windows casts a warm glow across the ground. The area where the shops are has its path freshly shoveled and the snow stacked high off the path into the forest. It serves as even more of cover for the monsters who like to keep watch from the shadows. He steps into the shopping central square and feels relief knowing he can make it back home in time.   
  
“Sansy…♫” He hears the soft murmur on the store steps. The smell of cigarettes in the air.   
  
“Grillbz!” His sneakers skid across the ground. His body turns, his mouth gapes open in a smile but he bites it back he had to get back home. “S-sory! I have to run back.”   
  
The fire monster flickers in the winds outside, but it doesn't seem to bother him. He sits on the steps outside of his bar, smoking. It was always curious to Sans why Grillby… a monster made of fire… needed to smoke but he lets it go. The man needs a way to destress, if Sans had that luxury he’s sure he might try it too.   
  
He runs past him and continues down to the small bunny owned shop. The stores are all lined up in a neat alley way. It made sneaking up on a monster difficult and Sans was glad for the openness of the shopping areas.   
  
Heavy doors were a standard for owning a business. They were all reinforced, strong to prevent thefts during off hours. Most monsters could push them open with a little effort, but Sans had to lean his whole body with both arms extended in front of him to even slip inside the shop doors before it shut on him.   
  
He’s awash with the warmth of the shop immediately, it makes him shiver in front of the door for a moment as his body starts to warm… the feeling is so nice he doesn't want to move but he forces himself too. The isle for chocolates should be with junk food. He makes a stunted walk-run to the isle, finds it, and hurries to the counter to pay.   
  
Usako, the Snow bunny who ran the shop at night, doesn't look pleased to see him. From over her heavy fake eyelashes the bunny gives him a look that makes Sans quake in his shoes. The blood lust from her isn’t masked at all. Her hatred for Sans tells him to run. Tells him he should not be here, but he fights his instinct. She’s a store vendor. She can’t hurt him and he can’t hurt her.   
  
“Where’s Papyrus?” The bunny hums. She doesn't ring up the bag of chip bits, she doesn't even make the effort to stand from where she was painting her nails.  
  
“...B-b-oss. S-sss-ssent. M- m-me t-t--t-t-tt-t-to”  
  
“Asgore have mercy… just shut up runt.” She huffs. She sweeps her long ears off her shoulder like a tuft of hair in her way.“You got gold?” She finally stands up, taking her job seriously. Though the pink fishnet shirt she wears is too revealing for work.   
  
Sans nods, keeping his gaze down at his feet to avoid looking at the voluptuous bunny. He fingers the gold in his pocket and counts it by rubbing his finger over one coin at a time. She didn't need to know how much money he had left… chances are she would over charge him.   
  
He had been here many times during her shift with boss by his side. No doubt she was still bitter about the last time they had seen each other… back when the boss had executed one of her siblings in public. If it affected her at all she doesn't show it. Not on her face.   
  
“Fifteen.” She says. There's no emotion behind it. The cold voice she makes leaves no room for argument. Sans nods. It doesn't cost this much. He knows that. But he had been prepared for her to say at least twenty. He palms the cash and stands on his tiptoes to reach the counter.   
  
She knows at least not to touch him. She extends her paw out for Sans to drop the money into. They don't say anything else. He turns back and runs out the store, trying to make up for the lost time he’s wasted.   
  
He’s almost out of the shopping district when he collides with Grillby. The two get knocked backwards and Sans quickly rights himself, reminding himself that only their coats touched. That Grillby was his friend and not going to hurt him.   
  
“Sorry Grillbz, I’m in a rush!” He offers the excuse and starts to run back out when he’s pulled tautly back by his hoodie.   
  
“I know Sansy♫ - watching you run with that pink look on your face is exciting… He has you running errands now?” Sans nods his head and quickly tries to pull away but Grillby has no intention of letting go.   
  
“Please Grillbz, I have to get back soon or boss will kick me out.”  
  
“If he does, you know you can always stay with me. I miss you Sansy♫, you stopped coming to my bar. That hurts. Thought you missed me too.” He feigns hurt.   
  
Sans turns around clutching the bag of chocolates in his hands. Its a reminder he has to get back soon or… “I missed you too Grillbz, but I have to-”  
  
“Prove it.♫”   
  
“Wha-?”   
  
The fire monster sing songs. He still smells of smoke and burgers. The grease of the food he cooks clings to his clothes. In the sharp cold of Snowdins nights theres another scent that makes Sans want to sneeze, the warm embers of the fire monsters being. It smells like burning logs, like charcoal, like the warmth of the dryer when he takes out fresh clean clothes on a Monday morning. The monster holds open a arm.  
  
“How bout a hug for your number two favorite monster.”  
  
“Grillbz I don’t like to… be close. And boss would skewer you if he knew.”   
  
“One hug, Sansy♫, you’re in a rush right?” He lets a smile part the fire of his mouth. It's like whips of teeth that flicker and wave in the wind. It's so rare Grillby smiles, it's actually cute when he does. Sans missed seeing that look. No malice. No hate. Just… Grillby.   
  
Sans looks behind his shoulder at the house in the distance with the one light on. Papyrus was waiting. Sans bites his tongue. He takes a step forward. Then another. His body shivers in anticipation. He reminds himself he’s wearing a coat. A thick coat and that Grillby won't be touching him. He’ll only be touching the coat and it will be okay.   
  
“See? Not so bad…Is it? Ha… you're shaking so much.” Grillby’s voice is so soft. It feels a bit calming, even though Sans is biting his tongue and shaking like a leaf. He stills himself and cloess his eyes. Grillby is so warm. Warm enough to melt the snow and the coldness from his bones. If he closes his eyes… he can pretend he’s just sitting by a fire.   
  
“Are you still scared?” Sans nods his head into the other's embrace. He can’t talk it feels like he’s choking. He counts down in his head from ten. He can do this. It's just a hug. Its nothing like the abrasive touch of his boss. Its friendly. Its warm and he smells like snuggling into a pile of blankets after coming home from a long day. If Sans closes his eyes, he doesn’t want to get up, doesn't want to leave the warm embrace sheltering him from the cold winds. It smells so nice, like safety, warm… home. “... Sansy? Sans? Shit… did you pass out?”  
  
But it's not a pile of blankets. The fire speaks, the fire moves, the fire pats his shoulders and makes Sans feel helpless again. He snaps open his eyes and stumbles backwards into the snow. “I-I-m f-fff-f-ine!”   
  
“You’re not f-f-f-ine! You’re fucking stuttering again!”   
  
“S-sshut up!” Sans feels the heat in his bones draining. The surging pleasure in his bones replaced by the frigid chill of Snowdins harsh weather. His face feels hot. He stares out at Grillby with both fear and anger and confusion, his eyelights disappear. For a few brief seconds, he had been hugging Grillby, had thought it was comfortable and warm and felt…   
  
Safe.   
  
“I-i- have t-t-o- g-g”   
  
“Yeah… get back.” Grillby waves him an awkward goodbye from three feet away. “See you next time Sansy.”  
  
Sans nods, glad he doesn't have to stutter through the words the monster already knows. He picks himself up and hurries back towards the house.   
The door is unlocked for him. Sans kicks off his shoes and slides the locks into place with his magic.   
  
“Boss! I g-got it!” He shivers in the doorway, the warmth of the house was nice. But it's nothing like the immediate heat that Grillby produced. Sans’ face goes red from thinking about it. He hugged Grillby. And he didn't hyperventilate. He didn't faint… he didn't scream… he didn't panic… well not at first.   
  
Boss walks from the kitchen to Sans with his hand extended for the bag. They don’t let their fingertips touch. Fell looks at the chocolate chip bag, then to Sans. He feels his health dip once as he’s being checked, a small percentage makes Sans choke up under the scrutiny. “Did she give you trouble?” Papyrus asks.   
  
“N-no.”  
  
“How much?”  
  
“Ff-f-ifteen.”  
  
Boss turns away from Sans and heads back to the kitchen, beckoning with a finger for him to follow and sit in the directed chair. Sans hesitates. He’s not allowed to sit on the chairs… or the sofa. So if Boss is pointing at it, telling him he should be up there he must be in a good mood. That's probably why he’s baking. Was it a holiday? Was an event coming up? The anniversary of the guard? Undynes birthday? … Did someone die? Hell Sans wish he knew. He would try to get boss like this all the time.   
  
“She overcharged you.” He mumbles under his breath. He cuts open the bag and dumps it into his bowl… but nothing pours out. He shakes the bag again to make sure it wasn’t stuck. Then decides to cuts it open along its seam, a huge chocolate brick, melted and reformed sits on the table top.   
  
Boss sweeps him a look of malice. Sans finches in place.The intensity of Boss’s anger rolls off him in waves. He pulls out a knife from the shelf. Sans tenses.   
  
“So you went to his bar… I should have known 5 minutes was too long.”   
  
“Nno!” Sans waves his hand in front of him. “H-he was on b-b-b-bbreak!” Boss was going to break something if he didn't explain this properly. “I b-bumped into him!” Partly true. The grip of the knife hardens. “It was an axe- cidd-ddent!”   
  
Sans swears the metal would bend the way his boss is holding it. He feels his bones shaking, the knife Boss holds becoming a bigger and bigger blade the more he looked at it. Until Papyrus turns back, slicing through the chocolate to break it up into little cubes. The sharp chop of the blade makes Sans flinch with every sound. He holds himself and waits for his boss to say something to excuse him.   
  
He sweeps the cubes into his bowl and mixes again. He spoons the mixture onto a baking tray and opens the oven to finish baking them. At last done with his recipe he turns to Sans.   
  
Looming. Distant. Angry.   
  
He takes the opposite chair in their kitchen. “Brother.” The tone is too deep to be anything but anger. Sans hitches his breath. “You were… adequate.” What? Was that…. Boss complimented him?   
  
Sans feels a small tug at the corners of his mouth, his chest feels so light. Boss wasn’t angry. Boss praised him. Boss was concerned for him… Maybe there wouldn’t have to be a punishment today. Boss was kind.   
  
“But-”   
  
But? But what? Sans stills in his chair. From the other side of the table his boss is looking at him so intently so… angry. His glower doesn't seem to be directed at Sans but still he looks like he’s thinking over something again and again.  
  
“You’re mine.” The words leave his brothers mouth so fluently. The lingering hesitance in his tone is all gone, replaced by the possessiveness of his boss. “Don’t you dare talk to that walking furnace again. Understand?”  
  
Never? Never talk to Grillby again? Sans shakes in his seat. The jostle must have moved his head in a way that Fell thought he was agreeing because he seems relieved.   
  
Sans palms his coat.. The warmth from the fire monster had long since been gone, replaced by the artificial heat of their home but still it was important to him… He hugged Grillby. It seems impish and immature, considering the way the boss bends him to his will when he pleases… but it felt like… something real. Something he could cling onto that … loved him?   
+  
Grillby and him had always been friends. His bar was a safe place for Sans, knowing that inside its walls Grillby was law. He could throw out ruffians, disperse the royal guard playing poker, give him a warm meal even when he was starving, let Sans vent and cry and know that beyond the bar the other monster would sit and listen to him. It was the only time he got to speak without fear. Without stuttering and thinking the other would attack him, because Grillby was always warm. Always thoughtful and kind in this shitty fucking world. He never reeked of the smell of dust or battle. Sheltered in his bar... the place stood as an embassy. No one fought on those grounds. No one would dare cross him.   
  
Sans nods his head, the action already confirming what trust boss had in him. He wouldn’t talk to Grillby anymore. He couldn’t.  
  
“Good.” Papyrus hums. His fingers drum on the countertop as he waits for the oven to finish baking his deserts. “I hate when people touch my things.” Sans gulps, he doesn't look up but he can see from the corner of his vision that Fells half lidded eyes are empty. He and his chair are both angled to the oven. He doesn't even turn to Sans, making his words echo in the room- misdirected and all the more ominous.   
  
“..I-i- w-wont talk t-to… Grillby.” Sans says outloud. His voice tremors. “I-- only n-nee--need, y-y-y-y-you boss.” He slides down and out from his chair even though he hasn’t been given permission to move. “I- i- only l-love you.” He gets to his knees in front of Papyrus, gulping audibly. The smirk on Boss’s face is priceless, getting Sans to bow before him certainly pleased his ego… getting his brother to do it on his own well… that was rare.   
  
“Trying to prove something?” He slouches in his chair, parting his legs and begins to undo his belt. “You better make it convincing, mutt.” Sans nods his head, eyes trained on the pool of red magic that starts to coalesce from under Boss’s clothes. As he sees his dick peek from the folds of cloth Sans holds his breath.   
  
Red shades of magic swirl inside his tip, the length of the organ impressive even when it was soft. Boss waits. Slowly his knees start to shuffle him forward and Sans places his trembling hands on either side of Boss’s waist. He lingers for a moment, shaking in place as he tries to get used to the sensation of touching the other. He won't.  
  
“Breathe.” Boss’s scalding voice shakes a raspy breath from Sans. He gasps for air, his tiny frame heaving for air. He starts to bend his head, smelling the leather of his boss’s pants, the smell of antiseptic and bone… He takes the tip into his mouth, shuddering as the sting of touch assaults his tongue.   
  
“Easy boy.” Boss urges him on, his deep voice laden with content. The hot breath of Sans pants makes his member wake. Sans digs his hands into the other's clothes, trying to still himself. This isn’t new, he’s done this before. He’s been forced to do this before.  
  
He leans forward again, curling his tongue underneath the flat of his shaft. Papyrus shifts, fascinated with the small pink tongue that pokes out from Sans mouth, lapping so eagerly at his cock. Sans fiddles with the fabric on his hips, getting confident enough to run his fingers down his illiac crest, resting at his pubis, fondling the base of magic that became swollen with each flick of his tongue.   
  
The small shakes and gasps that marked Sans disability only go on to excite his boss. He wants to push away from the heated member in his face, he wants to zip his jacket around himself and be in the safety of his sweater while he cries in the corner.. But he started this, he knows it will only be worse if he ran. Above him… Boss looks so pleased, he stifles a groan of pleasure, rolling his hips to catch Sans off guard as he chokes.   
  
Sans closes his eyes tightly, his bones rattle. He can hear the tinker of them as they shudder in his ribcage. His palms feel sweaty. He feels like he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe, not when he’s sucking so tenderly at boss’s dick. He wheezes for air, letting his boss dangle unattended to as he collects himself.   
  
A sob chokes up from him. He can taste boss’s unique magic. Liquorish. Salty and stale.   
  
His hood gets pulled over his head. Sans looks up, snaps his head up to meet his boss’s lusty gaze. He doesn't try to run when he sees those large hands move towards him, coming to rest on top of his hooded head. It's okay, he can barely feel the fingertips through the hood. But he can feel the heavy set of weight pushing his mouth back down to the throbbing cock in front of him.   
  
Sans mews weakly, unable to stop himself from sounding out around the foreign object pushing its way fully down his throat. No amount of saliva or precum mixed in his mouth can make the slickened dick feel any less raw or burning on his tongue. He shakes violently as Boss guides him to completion.   
  
“Hnn.. fuck.” His boss’s usually composed voice murmurs words of praise. “Good boy… all the way now… feels good.” Words that make Sans feel happy. He moves his tongue in time with his brothers bucking hips. Feeling the thump of his head against the back of his throat and the tender stroke of his hands rubbing his head through the hoodie. Petting him.  
  
He feels the drizzle of drool on the cuff of his shirt. Damply running across each arched bone to drip across the inside of his ribs. Boss’s aching member throbs happily, cream filling his mouth flowing heavily down the sides of his jaw and into the base of his skull. Boss pulls him down tightly, hips still rocking in place after his orgasm.  
  
Sans stills a breath, nuzzling his pelvis with the depth of his nose nested in against his boss’s pubis. He swallows around the liquid filling him, a wave of nausea crosses his soul. It twists up inside him and begs to gag, to heave until the intrusion of cum is only on the floor and not sitting so heavily in his chest. The loud sound of him slurping fills the silent kitchen. Only boss’s shallow breaths accompany the melodic piece.   
  
Something horrid crosses his mind as Sans pulls gently away, the dampness in his ribs nothing compared to the still semi hard cock in front of him. That lusty, hungry gaze Boss gives him from his throne above. His hands are still so close, petting, rubbing appreciatively. But boss isn’t satisfied, not yet.   
  
He opens his mouth to ask where Boss wants him, even if his bones are still rattling from just a blowjob. He knows he has to appease his boss. It wasn’t anything new.  
  
He could take a fucking compared to a beating any day. He just… hates that predatory look Boss gives him. Like he wants to mark him, break him. He has before. On bad days when Sans had been fucked into walls while withstanding punch after punch. Blood only made their sex slicker, more desperate, and … for all the suffering had to endure… it was maybe even pleasurable. A change of sweet bliss from pain to pure insatiable need before he blacks out.   
  
Boss didn’t do aftercare well. Sans was glad for that. For all the screaming and rawness in his bones, in his voice… after feeling trapped between the weight of his boss and feeling trapped in his own body it was nice not to have that burning sensation of cuddling burned into his already scarred body.   
  
Now was no different. Even after coming, boss just zips up his pants his erection pressing tight against the inside of his pants. Sans sits back, confused at first. Why didnt boss want to finish off?   
  
The answer comes in the scent of the oven behind him.   
  
“Moovemutt.” The one uttered semblance of a word makes Sans quickly scramble backwards. Boss lifts the cooking tray with his magic, the scent of freshly baked goods wafts against Sans’s nose. He’d feel hungry, if it weren’t for the moist pool of semen in the pit of his stomach.   
  
He still feels it dripping down his chin, his tongue still dances in the froth. He tries to swallow, but his throat feels so raw.   
  
“Clean yourself up.” Boss doesn't turn to him. “And put that filthy jacket in the hamper.”   
  
Sans eyes the glowing red of his Boss’s pants and then looks at his boss’s back. He was ignoring him…  
  
Sans turns, grateful for the reprieve and runs upstairs to his room. Stripping as he does so of his cold soddy clothes, his boss’s semen smeared through his ribs and its inner lining. He kicks them into his laundry bucket and dives under the warmth of his blankets.   
  
Boss said he did a good job. Boss was happy. Boss was concerned for him… In his own way.. He loves him. But what the hell was boss up too? He didnt want him? Sans didn’t like sex… but being rejected felt even more… painful. He throws an arm over his eyes and tries to sleep. His exhausted body complies. 

  


Sans just about gives into the lul of sleep. His eyes dip closed and the sound in his skull becomes numb. The torn blanket offers little warmth but at the moment it doesnt matter to him. The house is warm enough to fall asleep.    
  
The world starts to fade into a mist of dreams right before his door is kicked open. Sans sits up, his soul lurching to his throat when the sound of the door hits the drywall. His eyes squint toward the illuminated doorway, unable to see the figure hiding in the blinding hallway light but he knows it's his boss. The light streams into the room, making him wince in pain. The inviting darkness of sleep had been broken in an instant.   
  
Sans snaps his eyes open, blinking away tiredness, he scrambles as far away as he can from the source of light on his hands and knees until he falls flat out of his bed. It isn't much of a fall from the mattress on the floor to the actual floor, but it doesn't make any difference when Sans bumps his skull on the hardwood.    
  
“Idiot.”    
  
The dark voice looms above him. Sans chokes up, Boss. Boss was in his room. He turns over, fully alert and finds himself completely bare of clothes, save for his collar. It takes him a moment to remember he had went to sleep that way. His clothes were wet and cold, so now Boss stares down at his frail shaking body, amused.    
  
“B-boss!” Sans starts to stand, but feels the weight of his soul shift. It turns blue. “… Why a-are you in m-m-m-my room?” He’s pulled by his brothers magic to stand on his toes, lowered back onto his mattress beside where his brother is seated on the pathetic excuse of a bed. He pulls at his blankets, trying to hide himself and his flustered face from view.    
  
“Your room?” Papyrus snorts, the laugh is out of place for Papyrus. Sans peeks out from under the blanket, shocked his brother had made such a sound. “I pay for this house. I pay for you and I can go where I want.” Boss muses. He reaches a hand towards Sans, gripping at his soul and forcing the other to sit up in bed. “Besides, I told you to clean up. Not sleep.”    
  
Sans feels the edges of his soul get yanked closer, he slides along the mattress until he’s inches away from Boss’s wicked smile. “You can’t sleep till I’m done with you.”    
  
Sans gulps dryly.   
  
His eyes dart around his room. Dirty clothes were strewn about, textbooks lined the floor, scraps of paper and broken things from the dump had been disassembled and reassembled. “You… you want to-” Sans pauses, his soul trembles. “Want to have s-ss-se...x. Here?” Boss had never taken him in his room. Usually they would go to Boss’s room… if they even made it upstairs at all. The only time Sans ever went to his room to sleep or to hide away when Papyrus had guests. This was the one place he can retreat too. It was his sanctuary. Boss wanted to fuck him here?    
  
“No.” Boss says. Immediate relief sweeps through Sans, he didnt even know he’d been holding his breath but now he gasps for the missing air. “Why would I want to do it here in your fucking filth?! What the hell is this shit anyway? Dragging garbage into your room… But nevermind it!” The tugging of his soul disappears and Sans falls forward slightly, shoulders falling and chest heaving for air. The blue magic releases his soul.    
  
“Get dressed.”    
  
Boss commands, he drums his fingers along the side of a porcelain plate. Sans eyes it. A platter of cookies and milk for two. Sans is aware of the implications two glasses of milk means. But… Boss can’t possibly be… sharing?   
  
No, Sans snaps his head now towards the agape door- hearing a small boon of conversation downstairs.   
  
Two? Three people? Sans gets a bit worried, he can’t distinguish the voices from this distance and he can just barely hears the voices over the loud thumping of his soul. Suddenly his nakedness feels even more embarrassing. Was someone else in the house? It makes sense… Boss had been in a good mood. He only got that way when the captain praised his work, shit.    
  
Was Undyne downstairs?    
  
Sans shifts his eye to the door, then to his boss. Things click in place in his brain. He supposes he should be glad Boss is telling him to get dressed. He thought for sure his brother wanted to ravage him. He spends no time arguing, quickly he springs up out of bed, abandoning the sheet to search for something suitable to wear.    
  
He settles on a yellow turtleneck and a black university tshirt. He slips into a pair of grey sweatpants and having dressed himself in front of his brother he feels the heat rise to his cheekbones. This felt odd, in some way… adding clothes to his frame felt more personal than when his Boss would just strip him bare. Something in the way Papyrus looked at him feel uneasy.    
  
Papyrus is still sat on his bed, drumming his fingertips to a beat only he can hear. His eyes scrupulously search him, making sure Sans looks semi decent. Sans stands awkwardly… he isn't sure what to do now that he’s gotten dressed. Boss only looks him over. There is a stillness in the air that is too quiet for his liking.   
  
Did he do something wrong?   
  
His eyes fall upon his brothers pelvis, remembering their unfinished business earlier, but the red heat from his brother is gone. He’d probably taken care of it alone before guests arrived. Is that why Sans is in trouble? He went to sleep and left his Boss without the satisfaction of-    
  
-But boss asked him to get dressed so it can’t be that.    
  
Its rare to ever get the higher ground on Papyrus. It had probably been years since his younger brother had looked up at him the way he does now sitting on the poor excuse for a bed. He seems deep in thought. Unmoving and poised with a perplexing look on his face. Sans gets the feeling that maybe he has done something wrong. Should he wear something a bit more fancy for an occasion? Usually when Undyne came over Papyrus would just bar him in his room. Sometimes he’d forget in the morning...    
  
“I’ve been reading.” Papyrus speaks up at last, his voice cuts clear through the anxiety building in Sans. He pays attention at once, standing upright and clenches his jaw. “...and I’ve learned you can … as humans say… catch more flies with honey. Fear warrants obedience… not respect.”    
  
Sans is a bit confused. He’s not sure where Papyrus is going with this.    
  
“Sit, brother.”    
  
Sans does. Falling into a puddle of nerves where he stood. He gazes up at Paps, nervous. Was Boss angry? Was he content? Sans has no fucking clue and it was driving him mad.    
  
“Sit down on your bed, Brother.” Papyrus clarifies. He huffs, as if he’d been offended. “Can’t you do anything right?” Sans stands back up, confused why the floor and the bed were any different, but he doesn't argue. Boss wants him closer, so he walks over to his master and sits back down on the bed, leaving enough space between himself and the other. His pet fidgets beside him, awkwardly waiting for Papyrus to tell him whats going on.    
  
It doesn't come in the form of words, instead a cookie is waved in front of his face, Sans stares out at it.    
  
“It’s a cookie…?” Sans offers, dumbly. Its dropped into his lap and Sans flinches, dumbfounded. Papyrus sighs.    
  
“Just eat the damn thing.”    
  
Sans gives the desert a mean look. It smelled so wonderful. Chocolate already melted into his fingertips… but it had to be poisoned right? Or something was added to it. Judging by the stack of it Papyrus holds on his lap he hasn’t fed it to his guests… that means Sans was a guinea pig. Again.    
  
Inwardly he feels his soul twisting, the last time he’d been made to taste test he’d been vomiting for weeks… much to the satisfaction of his brother. The royal mutts did the same thing and in their incompetence Papyrus moved quickly through the ranks of the guard.    
  
Sans tries now to scarf it down, not caring about what toxin was in it this time. Boss was gonna kill him either way if he waited any longer. He can barely taste the chocolate on his tongue before it melted into nothingness. He coughs up slightly. Covers his mouth to make sure he doesn't sputter up any crumbs.    
  
A glass of milk is handed to him from the corner of his eye. Sans takes it in two hands. Staring down at the milky white depths. The color of it hasn't changed. Whatever chemicals were in here probably would react with the cookies though… Sans was sure. He gulps dryly and takes a big swig.    
  
“You're absolutely gross.” His brother huffs. “Do you even taste your food?”   
  
“Ddd-id you ww-aant me ttt-t-too?”   
  
Sans wipes his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve turning slightly to his right. He can't help the fear trembling in his voice. He isn't sure what the Boss has planned but he doesn't want to upset him more than he already has. He spots the lanky ivory fingers dance across the side of his vision, reaching for the sweet desert and holds it up to Sans.    
  
He eagerly accepts another cookie, ignoring his sense of danger and does just as his Boss asks. To taste it. To enjoy the flooding of sugars and chocolate melting into his tastebuds. The thickness of the cookie is soft, buttery and easy to come apart with just his saliva alone. It warms his hands and lands in the pit of his stomach, filling it with something other than cum and making him all the more aware he’s starving and hungry.    
  
“B--boss.” Sans whispers. He’s careful to swallow before he speaks. “Am I… in tt-trouble?”   
  
“Why? Are you feeling guilty about something?... Keeping secrets from me, pet?” The drumroll of his fingers gets louder against the ceramic plate. A rhythm of excitement. Was Boss nervous?   
  
“Nn-no! I jjj-j-ust…” How can he explain the anxiety boiling over in his chest right now? It doesn't seem right. Sans grits his teeth and looks down at his toes. He doesn't want to face his brother when he asks such a incredulous question. Sans quietly continues eating. Nibbling around the edges of the single cookie, whittling it down smaller and smaller until there's nothing left and he feels Papyrus push another cookie into his empty grip. Sans pauses, wondering what his Boss’s aim was.    
  
“...Wh-what's… init this t-tt-time?” He steels himself, ready for anything the boss might throw at him. He does a mental check quickly, wriggles his toes to make sure he still has feeling in his extremities.    
  
“Chocolate.”    
  
“Choc-?”   
  
“Chocolate!” Boss says louder. “It has chocolate chips. The one’s you bought from the store today! Are you a moron? No. Don't answer. Of course you are.” He bites into a cookie himself and chews angrily.   
  
Sans watches his brother eat, sharpened fangs bearing down into the fragile cookie. Boss swallows.    
  
Its not poisoned? Then… why is boss giving him it?    
  
“King Asgore is sick.” Papyrus mumbles. “ The royal guard will serve no one if he is to fall down. The guard was built to protect him… protect all monsters and yet now lesser monsters are scrambling for control. There are whispers...Kill the king. Take the throne. … Even members of the guard are thinking of overthrowing his rule. It doesn't matter anyhow.”   
  
Sans listens quietly to the voices downstairs. He isn't sure what to make of this new information. As a member of the guard himself, he could care less if Asgore died. The guard was only a paycheck. On his route he could probably pass the news along to Tori, she’d have a good laugh about her ex.    
  
“Sans…” Boss has never used his name casually. Not even during sex. It was reserved for moments when he was purely in trouble. “This is a crisis where monsters will be squabbling amongst themselves for ranking. Making a name for themselves to secure a position of power. Making alliances with weaker… fighters. I’d hope you wouldn't run off with an enemy for...security.”    
  
Run off with an enemy? For security? Sans raises a non existent eyebrow at that. What security was stronger than Papyrus? Being Boss’s property was enough protection. The collar around his neck was symbolic enough that most monsters would stay away.    
  
“No, Boss. Why would I even-” Sans slows his words, he internally beams; glad he’s not stuttering or fearful when Boss is asking him something so obvious. “-even try to es-es..” Fuck. His mind is stuck on the word. Drawing an absolute blank for synonyms. Why would he even try to escape? ‘Escape’ was not the word Boss wanted to hear. ‘Escape’ might even upset his Boss. Sans stutters around the word, his mind going numb.    
  
Papyrus ignores his daily fumble with ease, speaking around it to push his own agenda forward.    
  
“I don't know why I keep you around.” Boss huffs and it honestly hurts Sans. He’d given up his whole life raising his baby brother. He’d die for him,  _ has  _ died for him again and again. “Undyne reminds me constantly that keeping you is dragging me down. If i kicked you to the curb I could have been her vice captain by now. You can’t even defend yourself. Any monster would be glad for the free exp.”   
  
“... You’re k-k-kick--king me Out!?” Sans nearly shrieks. Absentmindedly he palms the collar on his neck.    
  
“No.” Boss makes his answer resoundingly clear before Sans has a panic attack. He offers another cookie to Sans. Downstairs they hear a table break. Boss just scoffs, Undyne was rough housing. He’d have to get down there and put order back in the house before she sets fire to his kitchen. Like she had done to her own house two times before. They both shudder at that thought.    
  
Boss continues, slow at first. His words spoken with an air of uneasiness. “You’re my brother… but you’re also my.. ugh...partner.” The word sounds so gross when Boss labels them. Sans feels like he could die. He turns his head to the door, afraid a monster might have overheard that awkward exchange. Looking back at Boss, the taller skeleton gives him a second of eye contact before breaking away to look at the drywall.    
  
“...thhhanks?” Sans looks the other way too- deciding he should shove the cookie in his mouth before he gets any more embarrassed. There's another uproar from downstairs. “Sss-shouldnt.. You .. uh- Stop… them?” Sans mumbles.    
  
“It's fine… they know why I’m up here.”    
  
“W... why are you… up here?”   
  
“To bribe you.”   
  
_ Huh? _   
  
“You're the only monster who is in the house while I’m sleeping.” Boss heaves a breath, ready to get something off his chest. The two have rarely talked like this before. Sometimes words were shared through insults and something akin to the tense of co-workers… they would discuss the guard like that.    
  
“Did you think you were sly, Sans?” Boss doesn't give him eye contact. He crosses his arms, balancing the tray of cookies on his crossed lap. “I’ve seen you eyeing my neck… I’ve seen the way you get anxious around knives… like you can hardly control yourself… You probably think it would be easy to kill me in my sleep. It would be  _ quick _ . Isn’t that what you're thinking?”   
  
“Wha- No!”   
  
“Shut up.” Boss draws a long breath, stilling the conversation again. Sans doesnt dare speak up when his brother was like this… this pensive deep routed quiet anger. “I keep you around because you’re mine.” Papyrus muses. “I can be kind…” he pushes another cookie into Sans hands. “... and you already know I can be rough with you.” He snarls. “You're free to leave… but when you’re in _ my _ house…you better remember who owns you _ mutt _ .” He shoves the whole platter into Sans grip, standing and towers above Sans with a disgusted look.    
  
“I-I--i DONT- woud’nt.. -- I’d never k-kill you Boss!!” Sans stumbles around the words. He wants to stand too and protest but the platter would fall from his lap. He throws two hands around the large tray to keep it balanced, the glass of milk has already teetered, leaving a ring of milk around its base.    
  
“And you wouldn’t - Oh, I don’t know, think of running to some kindlings grease trap to leave me would you?... Just because it wants to fuck you… Are you thinking of trading me out for that walking campfire? That thing may be kind to you- but you don't know what kindness is Sans… Kindness doesn't exist. You're a fool. An idiot. A piece of shit. You belong here, brother. I’m the only one who will love you. I’m the only one who will protect you… why would you want to leave? Why would you want to fight back? You know you wont last a minute with me in a real fight…. So why bother? We don’t need to fight. I can be ‘kind’. That’s what you want, right? How bout a hug… for your number one favorite monster? ”    
  
Papyrus bends to a knee, arms extended wide in the same way Grillby had done The near exact phrase Grillby had said. Sans gulps dryly.    
  
_ Shit _   
  
Boss knew.    
  
Sans takes the tray and gently picks it up and pushes it aside so he can crawl into Boss’s embrace. On his hands and knees he crosses the small distance, setting his body flush with Boss and hating every touch.   
  
He closes his eyes tightly, wishes for the gagging feeling to go away.    
  
Boss caresses the side of his skull, stroking gently across the curves of his scars. With every loving brush Sans flinches in place, hands balled tightly in the others clothing. They sit on the floor for the longest time. Sans counts to thirty. Trembling, while trying to force himself to breath easily. Its simple to breath. He’s been doing it since he was born… and yet now it was so complicated to remember.    
  
Was it inhale, then exhale? Does he exhale through his mouth or his nose? Does he hold the breath longer than two seconds? Or should he pant for air as fast as his body demands it? Can Boss hear his shaky breathing? Can Boss hear the same pounding that Sans hears ringing in his skull?    
  
“You won't leave me, right brother?”   
  
Sans nods his head into the fabric of the taller skeletons chest. It doubles as a snot rag for him as he buries his head into the depths of the others clothes. Boss smells sweaty. Having trained earlier that day, he still hasn't taken a shower but the scent is masked by the fragrance of baked goods and bone. Boss smells sweet and bitter. His musk mixed with with chocolate…   
  
“Brother?” The stroking stops, much to Sans relief. Papyrus is waiting for an answer.    
  
“Never.” Sans exhales all at once, feeling the coil in his ribcage disperse. “I’d never leave Boss.” He feels teary eyed… glad he can express the words out loud. He hates the touch… hates being this close… but there's something deep inside him that needs this. Longs for Boss’s attention and to be held like a child again, to fall asleep while being rocked back and forth… knowing everything was safe. That Boss would protect him while he slept…    
  
There was once a time when he’d eagerly accept hugs.. Want to hold his brothers hand when they crossed the street, want to pick up his little bro when he scraped his knee. Want to shush Pap’s crying and read him a bedtime story while they snuggled on the bed.    
  
But that was ages ago. Practically a dream.    
  
Sans can’t help but feel nauseous as his count passes 50. He knows if he pushes Boss away he’ll be punished but he can’t help it. He needs to escape. Needs to get away. The boss’s fingers feel like scalding hot water. His scent feels like it's suffocating Sans. And Sans feels an acidic burp in his throat that threatens to become volatile if he can’t get himself to the bathroom. Fast.    
  
He clutches his jaw, covering his teeth and immediately backs up from Boss, sliding his boney ass across the wooden floor until he hits the wall. Papyrus stares at him, hurt. A moment of vulnerability in his baby brother before he too realises whats going on. His face shifts, his tone scolding.    
  
“Dont you dare..”    
  
Sans feels the lurch of vomit in his throat, crying now in his little corner of shame. He swallows the bile, gagging for a moment as his soul quivers and rejects it again. Not even a minute has passed since the start of their embrace and Sans can’t hold on. He scrambles up to his feet, holding his hands over his mouth to keep from heaving over the floors like he wants too. He runs out the room, not even waiting for Boss’s approval to leave before he darts into the bathroom and pukes in the doorway.    
  
Boss follows him with a tsk. From over the balcony his guests jeer. “Gross man, Papyrus teach your pet to go on paper!” “Right in the middle of my story!?” “Fucking put him back in his room!” “BORF!”   
  
“SHUT UP and watch your SHITTY MOUTHS. Except you, captain Undyne. Your opinion is validated.”    
  
Sans would scoff if he could. Currently it's taking everything in him just to scuttle his way to close the bathroom door and be left in peace. A slimy mixture of magic and chymus erupts from his mouth again as he hears the door open and close. Papyrus awkwardly steps over the puddle at the entrance and sits on the edge of the bathtub. It's the closest he’ll come to consoling Sans.    
  
When his stomach can’t turn anything else up and Sans clambers back up from the floor to wash his face, boss tells him to clean up his fucking mess and not to go back to sleep..    
  
He gets up, having said enough for the day. Then he leaves to entertain his guests. They’re loud enough to hear through the walls, whooping at Papyrus. Sans tries to ignore their taunts… telling Papyrus to put his mutt in its place. They’re the reason why Boss thinks its normal. They’re warped… twisted… sick.    
  
Well, everyone was.    
  
Boss was right… there's no such thing as kindness.    
  
Maybe it was just Sans being weird again.    
  
He throws a towel on the floor and kicks it around with the bottom of his foot until the tiles are clean again. The towel is dumped into the hamper, the lid of it just barely contains the smell but its fine. He’d have to wash it later… but it was fine.    
  
From over the railing, he gets a small glimpse at the guard before he retreats to his room. Undyne is there of course, standing atop the broken livingroom table as she plants an invisible massive flag atop a mountain. Some lesser dog is there, clapping his giant paws to cheer Undyne on. Papyrus is downstairs, arms crossed over his chest and disinterested in the story. His eyes are fixed steadily on the armor clad royal guards who sit uncomfortably close to each other on the sofa. The poor fools.   
  
Sans closes the door to his room with a quiet click, taking his place back in the darkness. He doesn't bother to turn on the lights. Boss told him not to go to bed, but after turning up his lunch sleep sounds wonderful.    
  
Still. Boss said no.    
  
Sans sighs, resting his head against the door. A chorus of laughter bursts from the group outside. Must be nice. It's almost as if no one cares about the king's illness. The way they laugh seems warm and amiable. Sans didn't think there was any of that left in this world. Maybe it was something reserved for the strong, like Boss. And Grillby.   
  
Maybe it was his imagination. Sans slides against the door and pulls down his sleeve to pick at his ulna.    
  
It's a practice he’s done since he was little… a bad habit of sorts, to chip away at the bone. Some scars have formed since he’d last touch it. Small grooves that run parallel to each other. He scratches at the bone a little, giving way to the prickling pain as the bone starts to wear thin in that area.    
  
The pain is okay. It's not like the heated burn of Boss’s fingers. It doesn't fill him with dread at the thought of submitting to someone else… having someone touch him…   
  
Its his own touch… and its punishment. Pain to stay awake and alert. Pain to ward off more pain from Papyrus. If his brother found out he was sleeping, directly disobeying him, well- he wouldn't be lenient would he?    
  
In the darkened room it's hard to tell when to stop. He feels the drip of marrow down his elbow…   
  
But he hears the laughter from downstairs become morbid. It chills his soul and Sans hurries his pace to ease away his fear. The hum of magic fills the air. Crashes of glass and screaming monsters can be heard. Laughter is a way to mask betrayal, Sans supposes. What better way to make a monster drop their guard then to be friendly, to be kind? Boss was right. Kindness did not exist.    
  
He feels the heat of his marrow rise toward the surface, stinging his bones. The pain is insistent, throbbing through his entire upper arm. It's fine though. Papyrus had said so himself… monsters were using the king's health as an opportunity for change. A land without rules. A place for monsters to fight as they wish and create a name for themselves… Of course Boss would indulge.    
  
Sans shivers, back to the door, as the loud sound quiets into something lower than a murmur. Slowly, he stands up, turns on the lights to face his bedding and the tray of cookies brought for him. He lets a small smile fall across his face. Something sweet in this world.    
  
He drags his feet across the room and collapses beside the platter, pulling it onto his lap he eats one after another with a small sniffle.    
  
He hates it here.    
  
\---    
He closes his eyes just long enough to be caught dozing. The door busts open and Sans sits upright. Awake. The platter collapses to the floor, milk and glass streaking the uneven wooden boards.    
  
“I’m awake!” He announces loudly, but the presence at the door isn’t Papyrus. It isn’t Boss. Instead, standing at full height, blood on her armor, dust on her gloves… Undyne lingers in the doorway. His leash, squeezed tightly in her hand.    
  
“Get up.” She growls. “I need to train you.”   
  
Sans freezes, a lump of bile threatens to come back up.    
  
Where is Boss?    
  
He stares at the dust on her hands… Boss?    
  
Boss?    
  
Boss.    
  
Sans summons a blaster in one swift motion, tears fill his vision. He can’t tell where he’s aiming but he doesn't care. His brother is- his brother was kil-!!!   
  
A spear lodges through his radius and ulna, pinning him to the wall and effectively stopping the command the blaster received. The boned skull hangs in the air, awaiting its orders.    
  
“WOoah~” Undyne whistles. “Didn’t know you could do that… Paps, did you know he could do that?”   
  
Paps? Sans blinks away his tears. Was Boss alive? Was he there?! Sans wipes at his tears with his free hand, the blaster sinks low to the ground, disinterested in the drama unfolding. It finds one of Sans sneakers and decides to chew at it. Knocking it back and forth by its laces. Until it finds interest in the cookies on the floor and laps them up.    
  
Sans peers through his tears at the doorway, relief flooding him when he see’s his brothers red scarf. He was safe. Alive. And ... looks as though he’d team up with Undyne. The two are covered in dust… no doubt Boss has gained more Love, but Sans doesn't check. He just sits in shock. He almost blasted his brother…    
  
He slumps to the ground, ashamed of himself.    
  
“Shit~ he’s bleeding. I thought I aimed for a non vital part.”    
  
“Its fine… its not because your attack.”    
  
The spear lodges through his arm disappears, letting Sans go and he shrinks into himself. Barely aware of the conversation… his head is pounding. His magic feels drained for some reason… Oh. The blaster. He should recall it… but his head is swirling…   
  
Boss an Undyne argue while the world fades to black.


	2. Ownership

Magic is not a thing that can be controlled.   
  
It is the culmination of the soul, guided into practical form for daily use. Some find this use in cooking, others choose to use it in battle. Yet despite what form it is made into, magic is still part of the soul. It responds to emotions, to fears. There are four tiers of it, that monsters have come to understand.    
  
The first is simple, it can take the form of weapons; spears… daggers… bones… fire…    
  
The second tier are symbolic, an artform that has meaning to the user as an extension of themselves. They summon muscles to flex, legs to kick, notes to sing. They are similar to weapons, but these things move without instruction. They follow a strict pattern of attack. It is magic that is easy to be directed.    
  
The third are the variations of color magic. Which show up through honing skill and experience in battle. Magic can be manipulated with different properties. Some species seem to have a better grasp at certain types of magic and sometimes personality influences the trait… it is something that can’t be changed through practice. Monsters can only improve their own skill.    
  
Finally there is the fourth tier. Monsters who have no special talents… fit into this group. It commonly appears in monsters with strong attachments. Memories… and traumas. That is the form they’re magic takes. It is created from those strong repressed feelings. Some show fears: hordes of flies that attack the magic user. Though to others, such as the humble froggit, flies are something a joyous memory, an endeavor to catch a rare treat in the underground.    
  
The embodiment of oneself may be exhibited through magic. There are copies to help fight… to help ease the guilt of loneliness. Sometimes magic takes the form of family. Sometimes stray thoughts get lost in magic. Healing the enemy in that brief moment of hesitation, those are not mistakes many live through. And so there are not many of those type left.    
  
Sans fit into the fourth tier, bad at magic and controlling it. When he fought he would summon magic bones to use as projectiles, but everyone knew it was just for show. Sans’ damage, much like his health, was pitiful.   
  
Through Papyrus, he’d been safe… forced not to pull out his ace. The blasters. The small hounds drained his magic, they were meant to be used in short bursts as a last resort. Sans had not used them in years, not since Papyrus was a baby bones.   
  
Sans budges his eye sockets open and rolls his head to the side to peer around his own room. He’d been placed on his bed, wrapped in blankets to his neck. Glass has been cleaned from his floor along with the bundles of clothes and stacks of paper he had accumulated. His science projects and doohickeys of rebuilding old junkyard machines have been moved and left in their place are only odd screws and bolts that had been left behind. His light was off, but a soft glow fills his room through his window along with the patter of rain that drips from his ceiling into one of boss’s mixing bowls. It must be an unusually warm day for rain. Surely the streets were full of slosh… bad for a patrol. But the guard would have to trudge out to go to work anyway.    
  
Sans sat up in bed, balking at the empty room, devoid of the mess he’d call home. It looks like Papyrus cleaned and though the invasion of his sanctuary feels unnatural, Sans lazily ducks his head back under the blanket and tries to sleep again. Though he’s been sleeping all this time he feels unrested and drained of magic. His bones ache and he doesn’t want to go to work today.    
  
Wait.    
  
Sans freezes, eyes darting back to the door and his room and the crack in plaster wrought from the door swinging in and Undyne standing in the door way with his collar, covered in dust and…    
  
Right, boss was with her. They were working together. Safe. Boss was okay.   
  
If Sans listens carefully, he can hear Papyrus downstairs, scrubbing dishes. Sans hitches a breath, scrambling out of bed as fast as he can and touches a hand to the doorknob.    
  
Locked.    
  
Good. That means he can’t be blamed for missing breakfast, or sleeping in late. He takes a step back to his cot and falls down on the bare mattress, eyes focussed only on the ceiling and the growing mold stain on the roof.    
  
His thoughts try again to piece together what happened before his magic drained him of consciousness. The Captain offered to train him and instead of accepting her gift, he tried to kill her and like an idiot he blacked out from his own attack. It was more than rude it was… terrifying. He’d probably embarrass Boss right in front of the Captain.    
  
For all his screw ups… that had to have been the final straw for Papyrus. Boss threw out everything in his room. His room, the one place he thought he had left for himself, was now being cleansed of his existence. The house was always to be kept tidy. If Sans made a mess he knew to fix it before boss saw it. But his room had always been off limits. No one entered his room but him… The shoes by the entrance and the closed bedroom door were the only signs Sans ever lived here and now…    
  
Now his room was empty. Devoid of anything but the bedsheets and some odd heavy textbooks in the corner. He never owned a scrap of furniture to call his… just some stuff he found in the dump and even that was gone now.    
  
This wasn’t just anger, he thinks to himself, boss was expunging his existence from the house.    
  
Sans sits up in bed again, panic taking his mind in dark places. Would Boss leave him? Replace him? Just last night he swore he wouldn’t kick him out the house but Sans knew how easily boss could change his mind. Especially after he had embarrassed his boss in front of Captain Undyne.   
  
A key slides into the lock and the door creaks open before he has much time to think of anything else. Boss appears in the doorway for a brief moment their eyes meeting each other before turning his back and heading back downstairs. Sans scrambles out of bed, following his boss curtly down the stairs and into the kitchen where he sits on the floor in the corner, legs pressed up to his chin, hoping that Boss would let him eat today.    
  
This was his spot, down on the floor where trash belonged. Sans hitches a breath, feeling hopeful when Boss pulls his bowl out the cupboard to serve him. Whatever was cooking recently smelled wonderful and judging from the steam rising on the stove it was still hot. Sans’s stomach felt empty, his magic completely dried up. He was craving a warm meal to wake up his bones. His eyes, focus only on the bowl boss carries. Eyeing it across the room, he eagerly waits for the moment boss hands it off to him.    
  
In this morning ritual, Boss places the bowl on the floor too wary of Sans’s early morning screaming to assault his ears. Then he returns to his seat with the paper and a mug full of coffee. Sans wasn’t allowed on chairs, he wasn’t allowed to eat what boss didnt serve him, so he when a meal is prepared for him he wholeheartedly enjoys every flavor of even the blandest rushed breakfasts. He crawls toward the bowl and picks it up in both hands. He was too hungry to relish in the meal today, he slurps down his oatmeal in a frenzy and wipes his mouth with his sleeve.    
  
Its only when the bowl is empty that he regrets not savouring his meal. He still feels hungry, still tired and drained from his excess use of magic. He knows better not to ask for seconds and Boss would ignore him either way.    
  
The morning continues silently like that. Sans stares down at his empty bowl, mind numb, until Boss flips a page in the morning paper. The wrinkle of newspaper reminds him to breathe, he takes a deep breath while hugging his knees to his chest and waits for Boss to finish.    
  
“Undyne found an interest in you.” He says at last and though he has spoken he doesn't look down from his paper. In the same way, Sans doesn’t look at Boss either. “She paid me in cash. Funny enough, its more than you actually make on your route… you’ll be skipping work and I actually earn a profit.”    
  
It takes a moment for this to sync in completely to his blank mind. Sans hums in his throat, agreeing before the words are processed. But when it finally does, he stands up in disbelief, stuttering through words he could just barely comprehend.    
  
“Yoo-yu-you! S-sss--sold me!?”   
  
“Yes.”    
  
“Is- is that! Why… why my ru-room is-is… em-em-ehm !”    
  
“Is what? Empty? Your room was a mess, I can’t believe that rat nest was right next door to me all this time… Since Undyne is paying for your time I thought I’d transform the room into something useful. Maybe a gym.”    
  
Sans stares down at the floor. At a loss for words. His brother was never going to be nice to him. He shouldn’t have held onto the hope that his brother would ever look at him like an equal again. He was an object. Plain and simple.    
  
A monster to be sold and bought. He palms the collar around his neck. It was a symbol that Boss owned him. Their relationship was far from perfect. All he wanted was his little brother back, his brother who loved and cared for him like when they were little… and even through the years, when that love had become tainted with perverse needs and abusive tendencies Sans never once thought of leaving his brother. The collar meant he was owned, it made him less than a monster, it made him a piece of property. Yes, but he was Boss’s piece of property. It showed that somehow boss cared for him. Even as just a pet.    
  
He unclips the lock on it now. There was no need for it anymore. Not if Papyrus was evicting him, casting him aside and selling him. He stands up, legs shaky and dangles the red spiked collar in front of Papyrus, blocking his morning word jumble.    
  
“In my way.” Papyrus licks his thumb, turning the page and knocking aside the smaller skeletons hand. Sans hisses, flinches in place,when his wrist brushes with his own but he doesn’t back down. His face scrunches up, brows knit in worry from Boss’s prolonged silence, but he shoves the collar again into Boss’s view. He takes notice this time. “What are you doing?”   
  
Sans gulps dryly. “If…. If I ca-can’t st-st-stay here, this.... won't protec-tec-” He draws an uneasy breath, feeling smaller and smaller under Boss’s hard gaze. “Protect. Me.” His hand shakes, dangling the collar over the pages waiting for Boss to make a move. “If you… don't own me… then… t-take this back!” He spittles a little while trying to say those words. His chest is beating fast. He eyes boss, waiting for him to say something back.    
  
The kitchen, as Sans already knows, is not the place to question Boss’s authority. There were too many appliances and utensils that Boss could easily make into weapons. Boss himself, was a weapon. Standing his ground, Sans awkwardly waiting for Boss to say something to him; to him it feels like eons have passed in the span of seconds. Boss slowly closes his paper, folding it into halves then thirds and takes a long swig of his coffee.    
  
Then exhales. Looks at Sans. And takes a long drink again.    
  
Finishing it after a couple odd pauses.    
  
Sans’s arm feels tired at this point. It's the arm he had been chipping at last night. Only now, in the light of the kitchen, does he realise its bandaged. He bites his jaw together. This changed nothing. He had to stand firm. He had to know where his brother stood too. Papyrus takes his sweet time. His neck tilts back to look at the clock that hung above the kitchen archway. Then back at Sans and he stands up.    
  
His height always punctuated his dominance over Sans. He knows that, he tries not to flinch or loose nerve as his brother towers over him and picks him up, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.    
  
The shrieks that flood out of Sans mouth are loud enough to hear from Waterfall. He pounds his fists against Boss’s back, unable to fight back the urge to escape in a sudden moment of confusion. He didn't think Boss would touch him. He thought he’d punch him or maybe kick him down until he leaned his place… but this was!!!   
  
He drops the collar at once, too overwhelmed by the abrupt way he is grabbed and flush against Boss. He draws in a breath, holding it between his cheeks and tries to withhold his screams but his chest is beating so fast he can’t help but gasp for air again and again like a bloated fish.    
  
Sans continues to fight, gasping for air and shrieking like a banshee as Boss carries him out the kitchen and up the stairs. Through his eyes he stares down Papyrus’s back and blinks away forming tears. He sees the change of tile to carpet to stairs. He knows what the boss is doing before they even get to Papyrus’s bedroom and he’s tossed on the lofty bed. Bouncing up and down while he tries to compose his breathing and focus on Boss who was quickly undressing.    
  
“Wha- waait boss! Wh-!! What a- are!! “ He hitches for breathe as he feels the cool morning air hit his bones. Boss’s large calloused hands, take delight in undressing him. Sans closes his eyes, gulping back at the bile that threatened to choke him. Closing his eyes doesn't make it any better. He’s aware of every subtle touch Boss makes to debase his body. “Stop!” His voice is already scratchy from screaming, he begins to feel the strain of it collapse around his throat. “What are yyou-? Now? Whya?!”    
  
“It seems you’ve forgotten who owns you mutt.” Papyrus stalks him, a wild animal in heat. He brings a knee onto the bed, then the other, crawling towards Sans who only backs away in distraught.    
  
“I-I haven’t!” Sans balks. His face is bright red and he can’t help as he desperatly tries to pull his own pants on and scuttles to the edge of the bed. “Yo-you sold mmme!” Tiny pin pricks of tears start to fill his eye sockets. His mouth twitches. “Yuu- you said -you woul-wouldnt kick me out! But ..b-b- but then you…… my room… and- andyou… Undyne…” He starts to bawl before Papyrus can even come to understand whats wrong. He pushes at his tears with the flat of his palm. Apologizing for crying and not wanting to leave.    
  
The wind is knocked out of him, Papyrus punches him in the chest and Sans bends forward in agony. “Shut up, you’re killing the mood.” He’s dragged forward by his ankle and drawn into Boss’s heat. His tongue laps at Sans neck, tickling the sensitive bone around his clavicle. It doesn’t excite Sans, far from it. His panic only worsens with every heated breath assaulting his neck but he resigns himself to his place under Boss.    
  
Sans whimpers, breathing in and out curt sniffles, hands drawn to his mouth to stop himself from yelling. “I’m s-s-orry.” He tries hard to blink away his tears and instead opens his legs further, inviting Boss to grind against his sensitive bones. “Sorry, Sor-sorry.” He bucks his hips up against the scalding heat of his brother groin. An appreciative growl from Papyrus praises his effort, calloused hand gripping his hips to pull Sans closer. Closer. Closer. As if this distance wasn’t already suffocating enough for Sans.    
  
He tries not close his eyes. He knows from experience that it only made this worse. Sex, drawn out by each second, reduced to a guessing game. Where Papyrus would touch next? Sans wheezes for breath, looking down between them to where Boss’s summoned cock is grinding eagerly against his coccyx. Teasing, even though he could slam inside Sans right now if he wanted. Boss would never bother waiting for Sans to form any part with his ecto magic. That required Sans to feel some sort of pleasure from this and he just can’t.   
  
But he tries so hard to make this good for Boss. Every bone in his body is livid, screaming to run away but Sans only twitches in place. Eyes drawn on boss, only boss. He hated to be touched but he loved this attention. This intense and passionate fucking was the only time boss made Sans feel… useful.    
  
Boss grabs one of his hands, pulling it away from his mouth and pins it to the bed. Sans immediately knows what his boss wants. He summons his tongue, the frail pink appendage sparking to life as his magic almost refuses him. He opens his mouth, huffing for air, and eager for Boss’s kiss.    
  
“You’re too cute.” Boss’s raspy voice, his praise, excites Sans. He doesn’t know what he’s done different from any other day but it doesn't seem to spare him from Boss’s attacks. Long Ivory bones ensnare around his neck, threatening to snap it and end his life, while Boss bends down and kisses him. His tongue pushes against Sans, dominating and tasting everything in his reach. Quickly, almost coughing, Sans remembers to breath through his nose. Boss pushes into him roughly, causing him to snort and swallow around Boss’s tongue. A tiny mew of protest sounds like a lewd moan for Fell to explore.   
  
His furious ruts inside of Sans slide up against his spinal column, sending chills throughout his body. His claws are much too rough, bruising his wrist and the other squeezing tightly against his neck. Sans chokes up for air, breaking their feverish kiss. He feels sick, he wants to escape, he wants to vomit and cry and get away from all this excessive touching and affection. He holds a breath, pushing it down deep so Boss can finish without Sans begging for it to stop. It would only be worse if he begged.    
  
Boss backs up, lessening his grip only to slam violently back into Sans. His member squeezed tightly between Sans pubis and coccyx. His movement slickened by smearing his precum all over the white of bones. Red on white, coupled with the purple hues of bruises and cracks along Sans’s pelvis. Boss takes in the sight welcoming him, as if starved for the image of his brother bucking weakly against him.    
  
“Boss… Cant...bre..”Sans mutters. His eye lights flutter wildly around, trying to stay conscious until the hand choking him lets up and he heaves for air; making soft sobs and pained moans. His whole body shudders with the force Boss pounds into him. An urgency to be brought to completion. Boss pulls his ankles, stretching Sans’s legs over his shoulders to plow into him from a different angle. Trying to stimulate himself off of his brothers pants for air and the pained expression his face twists into every time his cock slams into the inlet of his spine and Sans arches off the bed trying to hold back his cries.    
  
“You’re doing good.” Papyrus purs. Those sudden praises makes Sans involuntrily jerk into the rhythm Boss has set. His magic sputters, he tries to will it to take form and derive some pleasure out of this but every touch feels like its scalding his bones.    
  
“Almost there.” Boss pants. “I’ll make you mine. Only. Hnng- mine!!”   
  
Open, mouthed, drooling and panting for the air that has been withheld from him for so long; Sans can barely hold on as Boss presses deep inside him, spurts of seed coat his ribcage and mat the bed with thick globs of ectoplasm cum.    
  
“Ahnn...I own you.” Boss shallowly huffs, rocking his hips out to ride out his orgasm. “Don’t you dare… hah… think you can leave. I own.” He seats himself inside of Sans, bending down and contorting Sans’ body to lean into a kiss, his legs ripe above his own head. Boss pushes his tongue into Sans. Panting hard, biting where he can. “ I own you.” His hands scrape up and down San’s ribs. “ I own you and… collar doesn’t change that.”    
  
His bones ache as Sans hungrily accepts another kiss. He tries to hold back the bile in his throat, but he knows boss can taste it in his mouth. Still twitching as Boss’s cum coats his body. He reminds himself, its over. That it will be okay and that kissing Boss is easier than being battered bloody on the bottom of the stairs.    
  
He knows his words are true. Even without the collar. Even without a home here, his heart solely belongs to boss. Boss is his world, his light, his reason to live. He owns him, and he wishes that he loved him and that love wasn’t perverse with violence or sex. He wants his little brother back, but he knows he’ll never get that innocent Papyrus back. So he leans into the kiss, teary eyed and grateful to be bent to Boss. His whole body feels spent, even though he hasn’t cum once he’s unable to even try and fight back against the stabbing pain of the others calloused fingers scoring up his ribs.    
  
“Messy.” Papyrus sits back with a satisfied haze in his eyes, looking over his mess still dripping. The front of the door is rapped upon. Startling them both from their frivolous kisses and heated breathing. “Thats Undyne. Get dressed.”    
  
Fell quickly rises from the bed, searching for his discarded pair of pants when his wrist is pulled backwards. He opens his mouth about to yell at Sans for gripping him so roughly. Who did he think his pet was- grabbing him like a-! His anger melts in moments, shock clearly painting his face. Sans was grabbing him. Holding his hand, begging with pleading eyes not to go and yet his body shakes violently. His grip is tightly pressed around Papyrus’s wrist. Afraid that if he let go and gave into his bodies needs that he wont be able to talk to Boss like this again.    
  
“Bo-boss I d-d-dont. Want.” He is still out of breath, his mouth twitches speaking silent words that he can’t put a voice behind. His throat feels to cut up to force more than a few syllabuls out. “ I want… to st-stay with you. PLease. Please. Plese. Dont … sell… me. “    
  
Punctuating each word is the heavy handed knock from downstairs. Papyrus looks torn for a moment. Quickly he shirks off Sans trembling fingers before his brother completely paralysed and he dresses again, speaking quickly so he won't leave Undyne waiting.    
  
“I dont get why your so worried. Its Undyne. She’s not going to kill you, not on purpose.” Sans fidgets,unsettled with the idea but still puts on clothing, despite it matting to the stickiness leaking from his ribs. “ I’ll go with you, just today, okay?” He nods his head, taking solace that Boss would at least accompany him.    
  
The knocking gets louder, causing Boss to yell out at the door and running off downstairs while still pulling on his boots. He unlocks the door bolts, one after the other but pauses at the last one to to get a look at the house and himself to make sure he is appropriate for the captain. Settled, he swings open the door and welcomes her into their house.    
  
Sans comes downstairs, trying to correct for a small limp in his step and greets the captain by bowing his head slightly, not bothering to stutter through the awkwardness of a real greeting.   
  
“You ready for training punk!?” Undyne yells excitedly, Sans on the other hand looks grim as if he’d resigned himself to his fate. He approaches the door, waiting for Boss to clip on his leash. He extends his neck out like usual, hands bunched in his pockets waiting for the solid click to sound but it doesn't come. He looks at his boss, then to Undyne, waiting for something but instead they’re both fixated on him. Did he do something wrong?    
  
Boss slaps the flat against his mouth and takes a deep breath to calm himself. His dark eyes knitted awkwardly. He looks as if he is both proud of something and embarrassed. Which is an odd look on boss, it's not often that Sans gets to see the pink flush of magic graze his boss’s cheeks.    
  
But it's a look also mirrored by captain Undyne, which confuses Sans further. He touches his neck, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. His fingers grasp at nothing and he has to do a double take to actually touch the surface of his neck. It feels so bare, thin. Why was his neck so thin? And… wet?    
  
Then it hits him, with the same embarrassment that Boss aims up at the ceiling. He wasn’t wearing his collar, and bite marks littered his bone, normally hidden out of sight. He snaps his head to the floor, looking for the collar he had dropped somewhere between the kitchen and the stairs. He spots it, walks over to the spot and bends to reach it quickly before wandering back to the doorway and shamefully putting it back on.    
  
He doesn't know why he does anyway. He would just get a new one from Undyne right?    
  
Either way, Boss tells Undyne he wants to go with them to see their training and clips on his leash. The same way as normal. The three of them head out into the sloshy weather, a light drizzle above their heads and head to waterfall together.    
  
“You had certainly had fun this morning.”   
“You were supposed to be here at ten.”    
“You’re supposed to restrain yourself…”   
  
The two prattle on back and forth. Sans following behind them, lagging with the slack the leash gave him. It's only once that Boss has to pull him forward to keep up. From outside Sans gives a glance back at the stores and quietly says a quick goodbye to the town once called his home. 

  
Sans’s eyes follow lazily on the path to Undynes house. He recognizes this place from following the human. They never live very long. The short leash of the collar pulls him tautly along, so he doesn’t spend much time reminiscing about the sights in Waterfall. He can hardly look out towards the odd echo flower or glowing mushroom before the leash pulls him forward with a tug. So he just stares at Undyne and Boss’s broad backs as they continue walking with gallant strides; legs longer than his own and pace faster than the stroll he usually takes.    
  
He’s exhausted by the time they reach Undyne’s oddly shaped home. He remembers that once Boss mentioned that the odd house was a creature...still alive. That she had domesticated it and beaten it to her living space. Tore up organs and tissue to move in furniture. Sans didnt believe it, though he swore he saw the windows crying last time the kitchen caught fire.    
  
But to his dismay they walk right past the house and the leash continues to pull him forward. They walk and walk. Through the darkness. Lit by a path of mushrooms they continue through the darkness until they come across broken bridge. Sans is cautious now, despite his tired feet he clings close to his boss.    
  
“Okay. Here we are.”    
“This isn’t our normal spot…”    
“All the better. No one to disrupt us.” Five glowing spears are summoned with her magic and thrust themselves into the side of the cliff. Each one a foot lower than the next, a jagged and rudimentary staircase is formed slowly. “Try not to loose your footing.” She jumps off the bridge and sticks the landing on the elongated shaft of the spear.    
  
Papyrus looks down at it. Jaw tightening. “How far to the bottom?” An answer given only by Undyne’s surly shrug. She pulls her hair over her left shoulder and unravels the metal clip from her locks. Dangles it from two fingers and lets it drop.    
  
Sans and Boss turn an ear to listen to the sound of metal hitting the ground. Waiting, waiting…    
Until a solid clink hits the asphalt below. A grumble is let loose from Papyrus’s throat, disturbing the silence as he shuffles from foot to foot and removes his boots. Without the heels he’s lost about a half a foot of height but Undyne makes no comment on it. He slings the boots over his shoulder and takes a step down onto the first rung.    
  
As a skeleton he doesn't weigh much, but he feels better to navigate the narrow path without his heels. The same can’t be said for Sans. Adventure wasn’t really in his blood. Going off the beaten path seemed a bit dangerous… but now Boss and Undyne are waiting for him impatiently and feeling their eyes boring into his skull he too takes off his sneakers and throws them around his neck. An easy feat for his feet, seeing as how his sneakers weren’t tied to begin with.    
  
He toes down onto the spear. Glad the pulsating magic weapon doesn’t slice him in two the moment he puts his weight down onto it. After wobbling a bit with his arms outstretched to the side he nods to Undyne and Boss to ensure them he can do this alone.   
  
The three continue on again. Path lit only by the spears embedded in rock. Few shadows are made clear of their outlines and clothing. Sans cautiously hops from one rung to the next nervously looking back every so often when Undyne’s magic disappears, only able to control five or six at a time.    
  
“I discovered this place about a month ago. Some lil shit fell down here and dusted himself. Unfortunately, he was carrying some stolen goods from the capitol. Had to come down here to retrieve it. Waste of time. Apparently he’d stolen a watering can.”   
  
“Watering can? The kings?”    
  
“Seems so. If you ask me, better the old man kicks the bucket. I didn’t join the guard to run errands for his fat ass.”    
  
“Hmm.”    
  
Sans is thankful when he finally see’s a patch of dirt on the ground and the glint of the metal hairpin Undyne had thrown down. When they reach the cavern floor he nearly collapses onto his knees but a cave spider intimidates him by opening up its massive jaws. The harmless thing wants to crawl on him but Sans is quick to jump around it and smack himself straight into a boulder.    
  
He lies on the floor, too tired to get up again and given up. Undyne retrieves her hairband and kneels over him. “Are you done playing?” Sans withholds a groan and instead manages a small nod. “Good. On your toes soldier.”    
  
Sans shambles up to his aching feet before Undyne can offer him a hand up. At the bottom of this pit there seems to be little in the terrain to mark the beginning or end of things. The dark could be a wall or another pit. It was impossible to tell without light. Yet Undyne, native to the darkness of Waterfall, see’s fine in the darkness and serves as a guide for the two skeletons. She recalls her spears and strikes them deep into the earth. Their glow makes them appear as makeshift lamps in the dark that light the path.   
  
“How far did you intend to take my pet, captain? … I almost regret selling him.”   
  
“Relax, Paps. Don’t get your bones rattled over a little darkness. Are you chicken?”   
  
Sans didn’t feel comfortable in the dark. He steps inline with Papyrus, following him even though all he can make out is the white of the back of his neck and the jut of bone where hip met with his illium. Things closer to the blue glowing spears are better seen. Spiders, millipedes, frogs, moths, roaches, scorpions...horrible things that dont belong on the surface.    
  
“I meerly dislike the location. This seems a dangerous path for you two to have gone.”   
  
“If we trained in public, someone would definitely waste him. This may be out of the way but it's less dangerous. Trust me, Pap… we’re almost there.”   
  
Sans trips over... something. Falling to his hands and knees, he scratches his palms on the hard rock below. Both Undyne and Papyrus express concern, in their own - sadistic- way. He hears Undyne telling him to hurry the fuck up and Boss telling him to stop embarrassing him. And honestly, Sans knew he deserved that. They were on flat ground now and no one was pulling him by a leash. The only thing impeding him is his own clumsiness. He stands back up, brushing his hands off on his pant leg and looks back behind himself to see what he tripped on.    
  
Then he starts to scream. The loud shriek draws Papyrus to action. He clasps one hand over Sans’s mouth and the other tightly against his frame to prevent him from lashing out or running. “QUIET- Do you want people to know where we are?!” Sans thrashed violently against Papyrus, now with the added bonus of the other touching him he felt trapped. He needed to breath. Needed space!    
  
He bites down on the gloved hand in front of him and topples to the ground as Papyrus drops him with a curse. Sans stays quiet, eyes wide in shock. He can’t believe he bit his Boss. But Papyrus doesn't lash out at him. He doesn't even threaten him. Instead, both Undyne and him are looking down at the skull in the ground. Undyne waves a spear over it for more light.    
  
“Another monster… he’s… sleeping?” She whispers.    
  
“Its a toy, no sane monster would be lying that still after hearing his girlish shrieks.” He wipes spittle off his glove and moves to kick the toy out the way. “Pathetic… screaming over a child’s play thing.”   
  
Sans nods his head, though he doesn't feel any more relieved. The two easily dismiss it and continue walking ahead. Taking with them the light. Sat in the dimming glow, Sans stared out at the skull. Memories, tainted by time, remind him of Boss’s skull sliding out from beneath his scarf. Tattered loose threads flowing in the wind. … The glint of a knife. It was a common nightmare. One he knew to be real… but not real.    
  
“B-bosS!? He whimpers in the darkness. He hadn’t been aware of how dark it was until the two had left him again. Quickly he gathers himself and chases after the small pulse of light in the distance. He only barely catches up to Undyne and Boss when she begins her grand speech.    
  
“Be amazed loosers! This is the biggest bunker in the underground! Humans have long since abandoned this hunk of junk, it withstands any attack and any magic!” Sans looks around at the empty husk of a test site. Though this was Waterfall and this place was far from the dump the wreckage of the fallout shelter was worse for wear. The top hatch had completely rusted, the outside of it was bent in half, probably from the fall it had taken to end up so far below the surface. It is corroded with the damp air, paint stripped from its exterior and yet looks thicker than the stone walls of the kingdom.    
  
His leash is grabbed, pulled without him aware of anyone nearby. Yanked from his facination with the man made object he now comes face to face with Undyne. The toothy captain has had an eye out for him for some odd reason. Enough reason to buy him.    
  
“Okay, punk. Show me what you got.” A hearty laugh echoes over the chamber walls as Undyne disappears inside, the leash compels Sans to follow her. Behind him, taking up the rear, Boss lags. He finds a place to sit against the metal walls and watches with a placid face, despite how Sans stares at him for help.    
  
“Hey! Eyes up here! An enemy wouldn’t wait for your attention to battle.”   
  
Battle? Sans had recalled her saying something about that earlier but he honestly can’t remember when was the last time he had actually hold his own in a fight. Back when Boss was younger, every day was a desperate struggle to survive, but not anymore. The fight had been all but drained from him when he had Boss to support him.    
  
Though… those days were gone now. Werent they?    
  
He had to depend on Undyne now. His new master and she wanted him to fight. He draws a bone attack close to himself. Finding comfort in the warmth of the red glow. Its light illuminated the space around him. Showing the disarray of the bunker. Packs of human food, either frozen or dried, remained untouched covered in a dust that Sans tried to convince himself was natural.    
  
“Ready?”   
  
Never. Sans thinks grimly. There was nothing stopping the captain from ripping him to shreds.There was no way this would end up being the enjoyable spars Boss always talked about as a highlight in his afternoon.    
Undyne goes easy on him, at least remembering not to go all out against San’s 1 hp. Attacks span out across the floor, slow enough for him to walk past them. But he doesn’t attack. He had no reason too, timidly he holds the bone in both hands and waits for a command.    
  
Hours go by, dodging the waves of spears Undyne sets out. Gradually she speeds them up, getting a feel for San’s capabilities. Stoic, as ever, Boss stares out at him from the sidelines making small ‘tsks’ and tapping his foot with a disappointed glare boring out into the back of Sans’s skull. His actions reflect his Boss in a way and his poor attempt at dodging, and getting exhausted doing only that, was something that shamed them both.    
  
Sweaty, dropping to his knees every other turn, Sans was a pathetic symbol of the time and effort Boss had poured into training him. He had to do something to turn the tables.Though he knew it would be worthless. Every monster in the underground had known how pathetic and weak Sans was. It wasn’t enough that his health was low… but his damage wouldn’t even graze Undyne’s defence. The only thing that would work would be the-   
  
Oh.    
  
It clicks in Sans’s head as he narrowly avoids another spear. It shoots out past his shoulder blade and to the ceiling where it clinks against the side of the dome and disappears. Gods he’d love to analyse this structure. It sucked up magic like a sponge. Could it withstand a blaster? Hell, could he withstand a blaster right now? He was hungry, tired, drained of energy from Boss screwing him and walking here and climbing down and dodging for hours… the blaster would probably make him drop just from a summon again.    
  
This torment would probably never end if he didn’t do something. She wanted a fight. The amused expression she wears is telling of that. Either she was waiting for Sans to unleash his trump card or she thoroughly enjoyed watching Sans shamble around, dancing around an instant death. He had to take the chance, he might lose consciousness but Boss was there if things got too bad. He would make sure Undyne didn’t kill him! Right? Either Sans would falter and become skewered against the concrete and metal framing or he would black out from his own attack. It wasn’t favorable, but he makes his choice, raising his arm in the air to pull out the most force from a -   
  
“Thats enough. With respect, Captain, I dont think your method will yield result.” Papyrus stands up and walks onto the battlefield. His presence is an immediate relief. Sans was nearing his breaking point, unsure if he could keep dodging. His soul grumbles for more food, tightening spreads through his ribs. He falls to his ass the moment boss interferes, glad for the break to catch his breath.    
  
“You’re too gentle, shuffling him around wont do any good. Running is one of the only things he’s good at. That, and giving he-”   
  
“Papyrus! Please. “ She holds up her hand to stop him. She hasnt even broken a sweat, despite the hours passing. Her well calculated attacks and slow patterns have given her plenty of time to recover. She tilts her head to look at Sans from the floor, giving him a sour look. Disappointment.   
  
Papyrus clears his throat “I just meant its time for a more direct approach. … I’ll fight him.” 

  



	3. Reunion

“I’ll fight him.”   
  
As soon as Boss spoke those dreaded words Sans was on edge again. He felt a shiver crawl up through his spine and choke him.   
  
Heels clicked in the darkened room, Papyrus was centering himself to face off against Sans while Undyne took her retreat to the farthest wall and watched.   
  
The room was completely still. Silent, as Boss drew his weapon out of thin air and twirled it around the palm of his hand. Sans hastily scrambled onto his feet again just as a bone shard whizzed past his skull.   
  
There was no warning, only the pulse of air that came after it had already passed him. Sans gulped, but he didn’t look away from Papyrus. Eyes facing forward, he looked at his brother for the first time as an enemy.   
  
Papyrus. Attack 206.   
  
If even one fragment of bone grazed him it would do just as much damage. There was no way, Sans would survive an attack. When Undyne threw spears at him she started slow, and Sans was sure she had manipulated their direction because Papyrus was here too. Any attack that would have hit him suddenly stuck an inch left or right of where Sans was.   
  
She pulled her punches… but Boss would never have the same mercy. Sans’s fragile bones were proof of that. Every beating from childhood to now was a reminder that his brother would never hold back. He started to tremble. Magic was different than fists or knives or slamming him into walls… it was… permanent.   
  
Sans somehow stood his ground, even with his knees as jello. His eyes darted around the fallout bunker, aware boss could materialize his attacks from anywhere in his scope of vision. Not just his hands.   
  
Another bone manifested itself, its red glow pulsating the same color as blood and death. This one was longer; It was a femur, stretched just as long as Undynes spears. It hovers for seconds, making sure Sans caught the glint of light before it is aimed towards him.   
  
Sans dodges right, rolling away from the projectile and losing his jacket in the dirt. Quickly he reorients himself to face Papyrus, but his brother is unmoving. Boss stands with his neck straight out and his posture straight and judgemental.   
  
Sans suddenly realises the femur doesn’t ping against the side of the bunker's walls. Its against everything he knows… but he takes his eyes off his enemy and stares in awe at the glowing bone attack. It was different than what he’d seen Boss do before. This one hovers, sweeping against the curved surface of wall until it changes direction and come again for Sans.   
  
Sans, as if startled by a ghost, jolts in place. Unprepared for such a swift attack he stumbles over his own feet and falls, hitting his spine hard between a few pebbles at his back. The red femur swoops over the place where he was standing, reflected on his pale bone. Sans stares up at the ceiling at its magnificence. Its speed is something he can’t even comprehend the only way he even knows it had almost struck him is the aftermath of red streaked behind its path.  
  
Its something beautiful... and terrifying. _Boss had grown so much._ Terrified, Sans lies on the ground in awe of it until it stops. Pointed end appearing as only a dot from his perspective. He clutches the pebbles on the ground… his eyes turn hollow as the weapon turns in mid air and hovers above him. The rod was going to slam down into him. Intending to skewer him right into the floor.   
  
He was too exhausted to use his magic… he couldn’t dodge again.   
  
_It’ll just hurt for a second… I’ll wake up in bed… and everything will be okay!_ He winced his eyes closed and shuttered out his last breath. But no attack came. He wheezed out a shaky cough, still refusing to open his eyes. If he was wrong… he didn’t want to look at how he died.   
  
“... Pathetic.” Those word stuck him harder than any wound.   
  
He’d heard it countless times… but the way Boss said it now sounded like he’d really been hopeful for something different. He’d let down his little brother… Boss was… disappointed in him. And that hurt the most.   
  
Sans flinched opened his eyes to see the red floating pin point above him, suspended in the air. He fidgets away from it, playing a deadly limbo until he can sit up. The fight had lasted less than a minute and Papyrus was only toying with him.   
  
“...Training is over for today. We’ll head back.” Boss doesn’t even look at him, his words are directed towards Undyne and she agrees. The pulse of magic light is extinguished as his attack is dismissed and Sans sits in darkness, catching his breath from his near death experience.   
  
“Hurry up, shrimp!” Undyne calls. It leaves him no time to recover from the hours of dodging he’s had to put up with. Somewhere among the dirt of this place, his jacket was lost on the floor. Sans pats the ground for it. Blindly searching the dark for the fur lining.   
  
Footsteps walk further away from him. The two leave the bunker. Sans almost feels relieved. His legs give out beneath him and he collapses to the floor. It's the first time he can catch his breath and after running for his life during ‘training’.   
  
“Sans!” Undyne snaps. She smacks a log against the outside of the chamber and makes the empty scrap of metal echo. The twisted broken bunker rings out like a worn church bell, thudding loudly against Sans’s skull and making him cringe into himself. Just when he had a moment to rest… “We’re leaving without you!”   
  
Good. Who cares if they left without him? No one cared anyway… it wouldn’t make a difference to those two if he died. In fact… they might just kill him if _‘training’_ was going to a daily routine.  
  
He grinds his forehead into the dirt. That's all he was right? Just dirt for them to step on… maybe he was even lower than dirt. At least dirt had a purpose.   
  
With his bones slimy, sweaty, and aching, he just wanted to lie in the dirt and sleep for a bit. That is… until he heard footsteps approach him. Once again, he’s all nerves as Boss hovers nearby.   
  
“Get up and shut up. Don’t embarrass me more than you already have.”   
  
A hand reaches out for him, he see’s it out the corner of his eye. Summoning energy out of seemingly nowhere, Sans skirts backwards away from the offending phalanges.   
  
“I’m not touching you…” Papyrus seethes. “Just getting your leash.” He reaches out again to grab the short end of the rope, this time Sans doesn’t jerk away. He remains paralyzed until a safe space is achieved again between him and his brother. The two stand wordlessly and Boss leads him out.   
  
The three travel the path back the way they came. With Undyne and Papyrus in the front and Sans in the back, struggling to keep their pace so the chord of rope doesn’t strangle him.   
  
“-how bout dinner, captain?”  
“At your place? I’d rather eat a snail.”  
  
The path is illuminated by Papyrus’s magic on the way back. Casting them all in a red glow and spreading chills up his spine. As the group walks back to their drop off point they pass the skeleton prop half buried in the ground. Sans doesn’t freak out about it this time. He steps over it and huddles close to Undyne and Papyrus, afraid to be left in the dark again.   
  
“What's wrong with my place? I’m a better cook then you’ll ever be.”   
“No offence Paps, but I’m not one for dinner and a show.”   
  
Sans continues to walk forward, startled as the lead whips around his neck. Boss had stopped. It had been years since Sans was the one to walk in front of his little bro, it wasn’t like him to get riled up by a passing comment. Even if their personal… activities… were being advertized, Boss was always one step ahead.  
  
“Not like your place is any better… is Alphys still leeching around?”  
  
It takes him longer than he’d like to make a response. Just like that he starts to move forward again, dragging Sans with him like nothing ever changed. Sans stares at his unlaced sneakers. Watching as the patches of grass and dirt and bugs get tangled up in the laces.   
  
“Thats none of your business. … But yes. We’re thinking of moving in together.”   
“Careful, Undyne. You don’t want the guard getting wind that your chummy with anyone.”   
“Ha… maybe I’ll put a collar on her. Worked for you.”   
“Shut it.”   
“Whatever. I’m still free for dinner. How bout Grillbys?”  
  
Hearing that name, Sans looks up from the floor and stares back and forth between Undyne and Boss.   
  
“I hate that grease traps restaurant. The bastard has the nerve to lay eyes on my pet.”   
“Fine… hmm Muffets is open.”  
“Who the hell is Muffet?”  
  
He lowers his eyes back to the ground. The feeling of guilt ebbed its way back to his throat. He promised Boss he’d never speak to Grillby… besides its not like they were going to feed him. Undyne owned him now. New owner. New rules.   
  
He slowly ascends the lance makeshift staircase Undyne builds to form the way up. It’s harder to jump up to each platform than it was coming down. Papyrus, with his long sinewy legs, easily closes the distance as if it were any other stairs. Same goes for Undyne, who practically waltzes across the gap by placing the spears right under her own feet.  
  
The versatility of their magic is something awe inspiring to Sans. His attacks were pitiful and his ace was useless in combat. He could only call upon the blaster by expending all his magic at once.   
  
You can’t pour from an empty cup.   
  
High up now, stuck between the pit of darkness beneath them and an unreachable ceiling, it's hard to tell if they are still ascending. Papyrus and Undyne continue to chat, talking about where to go for dinner but Sans lags behind, tired to the bone. Without noticing, he oversteps a rung.   
  
...And falls down into the abyss.   
  
“Holy shiiii-”Undyne panics, she looks beside herself at Papyrus only to watch him jump from the ledge. “Paps!? WHat are y--o--” Her voice fades out of his range of hearing. The only thing he can hear is the whoosh of air past his skull. It floods into his eye sockets and makes him feel dizzy but there-- ahead of him is the familiar shape of Sans.   
  
Papyrus tucks in his arms and dives down, aerodynamically gaining speed enough to catch up to him, but once he gains acceleration he can’t stop. He grabs Sans from the air, sticks his claw right through his ribcage for a grip and with his other hand summons a bone.   
  
Rather than hitting the ground at this speed, Papyrus makes a quick rational decision to stop their fall all together. He directs the bone attack to aim for a single target, _himself._  
  
The jagged bone strikes through his chest, shattering his sixth rib and embedding itself deep in the cliffside behind him. Boss dangles from the pike, a ragdoll underneath the crushing weight of his own body. One of his boots had to be sacrificed to catch Sans, he tries to listen for when it hits the ground but the outburst from his brother never lets him hear the soft thud.   
  
“Bb-bboss???” On the verge of tears Sans calls out to him, but Papyrus smiles.   
  
“Never fear Sans, I, The Great and Terrible Papyrus have ~!” He stops his speech when he realises Sans isn’t listening.  
  
His brother is desperately struggling through with his own demons, fighting his need to get away from touch and falling to his death. The thing was, Papyrus couldn’t yell at him. Despite the heroic speech he was giving just a moment ago, he’s short on breath. And dangling by a broken rib wasn’t comfortable in the slightest.   
  
He hefts Sans up and orders him to cling to his neck but his useless brother shakes his head, he scratches at Papyrus too. Clawing. Biting. Whimpering. Digging his nails into the bone in a half attempt to escape and half attempt not to be let go. He is torn.   
  
Papyrus see’s the emotions befall his brothers face. Cloaked in the red glow of the protruding bone, Sans is having more than a panic attack, he’s completely shut down. His eye lights are no longer in his skull. Instead, hollow depths sink deep inside him, maybe all the way to his soul.  
  
Sans is looking at nothing… and terrified of everything. Papyrus observes that Sans has retreated within himself and that was scarier than dangling here to their death.  
  
Papyrus tightens his grip on his brother, knitting a closed fist through his pelvic inlet to balance his center of gravity. His fingers slid right through his lower sacrum holes, giving Papyrus a handle and making Sans erupt into a panic frenzy he couldn’t escape from.   
  
His big brother kicks against the wall, kicks against Boss, and begs to be let go. He makes incomprehensible cries and his hands slap anything that come near. Hot tears ran down his chin, and then… Sans completely goes lax.   
  
Papyrus double checks his stats quickly, relieved when he sees the single digit of health still intact. Sans merely fainted.   
  
“PAAAPS?! YOOOU OKKKAY? YOOOU DEAADD BUDD?” An echo of Undyne’s undying concern reaches him but he doesn’t think he can muscle up the capacity to yell back. He looks down at himself, watching the red ooze of marrow and blood leak over his lower half. The red femur saved both of their lives just now and though it hurts like a bitch, he doesn’t dismiss it. Not without accessing his situation first.   
  
Papyrus looks up, straining his eyes for the blue glow of Undyne’s magic somewhere far up ahead. It’s not a comfort at all to see the dim light, it just creates a greater divide in their distance than what he had originally thought.   
  
He scowls at the distant light, flickering as Undyne moved closer to him. Of course if he could see her, she would see him. ...There would be nothing more humiliating than Undyne asking if he’s ‘hanging in there’. Those bad puns were something he squashed out of Sans and doing the same to the captain would be impossible.   
  
He grasps the outside of the bone attack, pulling himself up to shift his weight elsewhere for now. Two more bones summon by his will, sent flying towards the wall near- enough to where his feet should be and tip toes along the edge of the bars. Finally having a foothold, he dismisses the femur that struck him and slumps along the cliffside to sit against it.   
  
“Sans.” … He shook him. “Sans wake up.” He twists his hand left and right to loosen his knuckles from bone. He carves out his brothers shape while slipping his arm free and repositions a hand over his waist to carry him. Papyrus slowly stands with one hand against the cliffside for support.   
  
Like Undyne had done, he creates a staircase of bone to use at his leisure. Undyne wouldn’t see the wound.. Not in the dark.. Not if she wasn’t looking for it. He maintains his posture while he climbs upward to meet her, glad that Sans was unconscious for the remainder of his journey.   
  
\- _ - _ -  
  
He awakes hours later, surrounded by the thick stirrings of conversation. Too many monsters were talking. They were everywhere…invading his personal space. _Suffocating him_. Some voices, loud and obnoxious, are distinguishable from the rest; those voices belong to Boss and Undyne, far from friendly noises.   
  
It felt good to lie here. Wherever… _here_ was. It was comfortable, warm, and best of all smelled sweet. Freshly baked goods were being waved too and fro. An oven warmed the place and kept out the cold musty outside where he could hear the piddle of rain. It felt warm too. … Not warm like the fires of an hearth, but cozy enough that he wanted to wrap himself snug around the blanket around him and inhale Boss’s scent and relax without having to worry about getting up for work in the morning.   
  
“Want to order desert, Paps? I’m paying.” Undyne’s voice is uncharacteristically chirpy, but then again she’d only ever talked to Sans through Boss. Kindness didn’t exist in this world but her animosity towards Boss was similar to a sibling rivalry. They had the same goals, the same objective to be the best in the royal guard…somehow that turned into casual conversations outside of work. It baffled him how those two can hate each other and still be _‘friends’_ but if he thought about it too long he realized his situation is the same. Boss hated him … and yet…   
  
“Fuck no. If shortcake was an entree I don't want to know what sugary gluttonous meal is dessert.”   
  
“Fine. More for me. How bout a coffee?”  
  
“Black. Like my soul.”   
  
“Extra cream and sugar coming up.”   
  
There are sounds of her getting up from the table and the tap of her own footsteps disappear into the mob of voices around the cafe. He’s fully awake now, but Sans kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to move any how and if Boss saw him awake he would probably begin training again and jam a bone attack right through his… _rib cage._  
  
Sans snaps open his eyes and jolts awake. He sits up in a panic, setting his eyes on Boss.   
  
_Hes okay._  
  
Sitting beside him in the red booth Boss stares right back at him, fork poised midair. He looks just as surprised as Sans. They both do a once over of the other. Alone in public, they can only whisper brief concerns.   
  
“B-boss? Are...Are you okay?!-”  
“I can’t believe you fainted from the slightest-”   
  
They both go still. Papyrus clenches his teeth closed, having said too much too soon. Sans looks at what his brother is wearing. A T-shirt that says ‘Muffets cafe’. Normally he wouldn’t be caught dead in such a lousy shirt. His scarf and gloves are gone too. Sans pales… even Boss’s pajamas were higher quality than the oversized ad space he wears now. Boss slides his plate over to him. “Eat something, you worthless… idiot.” The malice dies in his sentence.   
  
Croissants, sugar cookies, and cake line the plate. Cute confectioneries Sans has never seen before. Long ago he remembered looking in the store window and hoping he could earn enough money to buy a cake for Paps fourth birthday. Something cute covered in fruit or sprinkles, but money was spent on a few canned goods instead. They ended up splitting an icee and told stories all night, huddled in their scrap heap until monsters stopped raiding the junkyard.   
  
Now a strawberry whipped tart sits in front of him. Casually existing. A perfect dollop of cream defies gravity. Sliced strawberries line the inside of the cakes spongy core. Boss didn't even seem to notice it or care for the cake. He'd barely eaten.   
  
Of course… Sans knows better than to touch the tray. He was only sat here because Papyrus had put him here. Being at the table was already too much for a pathetic monster like him. Besides… Undyne would get angry if he ate without her. Boss wasn’t in charge any more.   
  
There are so many loud sounds in the cafe. Overhead, running along stringed lights, tiny spider waiters help to carry food to their respective tables. Someone drops their fork and it clinks against ceramic dishes. A child is screaming and kicking one of the booths. A spider woman in rollerblades is zipping in and out of the kitchen, the double doors flip and wobble with a pang each time she leaves or enters.   
  
There's a claw machine in the front, where some monsters try to get a teddybear only for the machine to laugh at them and mock them to play again until they win. Woshua is mopping down an aisle, mumbling at others to stop running. Undyne is at the drink bar, shaking the coffee pot down for a fresh brew. Suddenly a birthday song fills the air, the staff come out and clap their hands and sing and sparklers crackle atop a cake.   
  
But Boss is quiet. He sits with his head slumped into his crossed hands and dozes off. He is unbothered by the sound, simply resting to recover his own sanity. Or perhaps he’s just resting to _recover_.   
  
Sans looks at the shirt Boss had bought and wonders how bad the damage is underneath. He remembered hanging in the middle of the bottomless cavern. Suspended only by the red glow of bone and being physically incapable of escaping the claw in his chest. Boss caught him, fist jammed between ribs… so close to his soul that Sans thought he’d die.   
  
But before then… there was a moment while he was falling. A moment when time had stopped and he thought for sure he was alone in the abyss. No one would rescue him. No one would _miss_ him.   
  
And now?  
  
Sans pulls the blanket closer to him, extending the tattered red cloth over his bare arms. The warm cloth isn’t a blanket at all. Its Boss’s scarf. But why? Boss was never without his scarf. He loved the scrap of clothing more than his worthless brother. The scarf made him look cool… like a supervillain. To have given it up was… strange. But Sans accepted it anyway, replacing his lost jacket with the scent of Boss’s warm cotton scarf.   
  
He buried his nose into the scent, pulling it closer to him and nuzzling in it. Boss gave it to him right? That means he still cared. In some _small_ way. He cared for trash that couldn’t even walk up a couple of platform stairs. He cared for a useless idiot like him. …Even if he was selling him, they’d still be brothers right? Maybe he’d see Boss on weekends. Or during shifts in guard duty…  
  
Starting tomorrow he’d be alone to face Undyne’s training sessions. He closes his eyes and lies back on the padded booth seat. Felt much softer than his lumpy bed. … Even with all the noise, he could fall asleep. Right here.   
  
“I don’t understand you.” Papyrus huffs. His voice isn’t rude or brash just… tired. It spurs Sans from his nap just enough to look over at his brother. He knows he’s not in trouble… and such an indirect statement didn’t warrant a response from him but Boss was talking to him, _about_ him. Sans doesn’t dare talk back, not with his stuttering vernacular, but he raises his brow just enough to ask Papyrus to continue.   
  
“You’re hugging my scarf.” He scowls.  
  
The red fabric crinkles in his hands, as Sans quickly pulls it over his head and offers it back. Of course, Boss han’t willingly given it to him… he was an idiot for thinking Boss would ever lend him something so important-  
  
“...but you scream everytime I touch you. I don’t get it. I try to save your life and it's almost like you’d rather fall to your death than have me rescue you. I can’t even hold you for a minute without you vomiting over yourself. And then I hear from the royal mutts that you're hugging Grillby in a busy street and… it _upsets_ me. I don't understand you.”  
  
Each brother gives the other a long glance, as if trying to find the answer written on their skull. A cheat sheet into the other’s thoughts. If anyone felt confused it was Sans. He still holds out the scarf, unsure when Boss would take it back.   
  
“I..I dont u-uhn- understand y-you either.” He bites his inner lip, afraid to say too much and make Boss angry. “I… th.th.thought you…” He takes a deep breath but with Boss staring so intently at him he’s nervous of saying the wrong thing. Like he always does. “I thought. You. wanted. Me. to.-” Undyne takes a seat back down. ‘to stay with you…. And not her.’ Sans thinks. He sighs, resuming his silent role again.   
  
“Paps, they have like so many drinks here. I mixed sour lemon and strawberry surprise from the slushie maker, try some!” She shoves the oversized cup in his face. Boss might have smacked the cup right out of her hands if she were not his superior. Instead he waves it away politely, his conversation with Sans shelved for later.   
  
“Where’s my coffee?”  
“Its coming… had to ask an employee to refill it.”  
“Uuugh… the service here is terrible and I swear there was a fly in the ice cream.”  
“It's a specialty. Try not to be spidercist.”  
“What? How can they ruin icecream!? This place sucks.”  
“Yeah… too many children run around but the are cakes good and -”  
  
Easing down the scarf to the chair, Sans sits back and waits out their conversation. Boss’s hand is so close. He could almost touch him. Slowly he approaches the slender digits, trying to hold Boss’s hand in his, but he jerks back. He couldn’t do it… he’s disappointed in himself and refuses to make eye contact with anyone. He didn’t want the others to see the tears in the brim of his eyes.   
  
As the royal guard members finish their drinks, Sans scratches his ulna. Normally he’d wait till he was home but with two guard members protecting him he picks up his nervous habit. Chipping away at the scab that has formed, he keeps himself busy while Undyne and Boss talk about frivolous things. He doesn’t listen, he can hardly pay attention to it anyway. The cafe was too noisy.   
  
Normally if customers were making so much noise Grillby would shout and shut them up. And even through a rush of customers Sans would still be able to hear the jukebox and ground himself to one sound. The atmosphere of his bar was calming. It was dark… without so many flashy, rotating, colored lights. There was just dim lamps over each table and Grillby himself, who warmed the place in more ways than one. Here… Sans can’t even tell if there is music playing. There are too many children running around and waiters going back and forth.   
  
“Hey. Get the bags.” Boss says. His voice is the only one who’s clear through this chaos. Quickly, Sans looks for the takeout bags and grabs all three of them before doing a once over of the table to make sure they hadn’t left anything. Nothing but stacks of dishes and- the scarf. He grabs it, tossing the fabric over his shoulder.   
  
Sticking close to his two guardians, he walks behind them as they exit. Undyne and Boss steal an umbrella from the buckets by the store and walk out into the rain. Sans doesn’t do the same, his hands are full anyway and the last thing he needed was trouble from the locals. He tries to remember this spot, but he didn’t know there was a restaurant like this. It looked to be embedded in the cave wall somewhere right before the end of Waterfall and the start of Hotland.   
  
He’d never been this far before.  
  
Sans freezes, feeling sweat roll down the ridges in his spine. He was carried here wasn’t he? While he was unconscious, he was carried alllllll the way to this small sweets shop. He catches up to the others, feeling somehow violated worse than when Boss fucked him into the bed.   
  
That same cold sweat drips down his chin when he looks at Undyne. She was his new master now. She _owned_ him. She _bought_ him with gold. Did …. did he have to _please_ her too? That was the only thing Boss ever praised him for…   
  
He looks down at his feet, unintentionally looking down into the bags he carried. Two separate bags were for their leftovers. In the third was Boss’s bloody shirt and soggy marrow filled paper towels from the restroom. It was a necessity in the underground to take any evidence of injury with you. So others didn’t suspect from the trail of blood that you were hurt. Sans wasn’t surprised at that… just surprised by how _much_ of it there was.   
  
Boss is walking upright, perfectly fine now and Undyne too… she doesn’t seem to have any different quality to her. Either she didn’t know about the wound or she didn’t care. Sans kept the bag away from the others. And when it came time to split up and leave with Undyne, he handed the bag directly to Boss. Not wanting Undyne to glimpse it even for a minute while he turned to follow her inside.   
  
She rifled through her pockets for a key, she and Boss saying good night without bothering to look at each other. Even with keys in her hand she turned the knob and kicked open the door, violently starting the evening on a bad note. Sans flinched as she turned, and kicked off her boots on the front step. She waits for Sans to hand her the take out bag and painfully watches him struggle to hand it over. Their hands make an awkward shuffle as she reaches for the handle and Sans immediately tries to hold the bag from the bottom, fleeing from even the slightest chance they would touch. She leaves to put it in the fridge and Sans wipes his feet in the doorway, taking off his shoes like she did and tries to hurry inside. But he’s interrupted.   
  
“Where do you think your going?” Boss raises a brow, inquisitive in the worst way. Sans halted at once, getting the sense this was more of an interrogation than a question. The pensive look on Boss’s jawline was concerning. Sans teetered around, stepping off the welcome mat to look at Boss for a last time.   
  
“I..I didn’t thh-think you would wa-want a hug… or ..anything, Anything sss-sentimental. Boss. ...Did you?”  
  
“No I don’t want a hug, I’m not a fucking child!”   
  
“But in the ca-cafe-”  
  
“Shut up! I’m asking what your doing now!” Sans swallows the lump in his throat. He looks down at his shoes and shrugs his shoulders dumbly.   
  
“T-ttaking off my shhhoes?”  
  
“Get over here, moron.” He taps his foot, his arms crossed over each other in his usual stance. Sans hesitates. He looks at the welcome mat, displaying _‘show up with wine or get lost’._ Unsure what to do really… he wonders if Undyne will come correct the problem but Boss wasn’t a problem. He was his brother.   
  
Nervously he takes a step towards boss. Then another and another till he’d in front of Papyrus and looking up at him. Boss’s hand outstretched, reaching for Sans about to caress his chin or something equally odd. Sans lies stiff as the hand approaches, grabs the scarf from his shoulder and retreats. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, glad he didn’t scream or lose his cool. He just wanted the scarf...  
  
“If… if that’s all Boss. I sh’uld… should go back now-”  
  
“Back to what?” Papyrus scowls. He drapes the long scarf over his neck and tucks it into itself.  
  
Sans clenches his teeth together, his hands knot at his sides. He’d like to yell at Papyrus right now because if he didn’t he knew he might erupt in tears. Either option was bad. “Un..Un..dyne. Captain. Undyne. Paid. for.. She paid for me. Right. B..boss?” He looks down at the ground, instead of up at his brother. He couldn’t yell. It just wasn’t in him. Any fight left in him was drained from the intense training session he’d endured. Now he just wanted to go inside and sleep on the floor if he could. He doubted he would get a bedroom like before.   
  
“Are you an idiot.. No don’t answer. Of course you are.” Papyrus drops the bags to the floor and kneels, trying to get to some eye level with Sans. Even when he can, he can’t see his brothers eyes when he’s looking down, and he knows not to touch him to raise his chin. So he settles for this distance. “Undyne didn’t buy you so you can live with her. Why would she… you can’t even serve me tea without having a panic… nevermind.”  
  
“No! Itss not ne..nevermind! Tell me why you… ssold me!” Sans can’t help the tears welling up in his eyes now. Boss said, collar or not he still owned him. Boss said he was his. Boss said he wasn’t kicking him out and yet… he’d thrown out everything in Sans’s bedroom. “I needto know Boss! … do you … do you hate me?”  
  
Papyrus can’t stay on his knees much longer, kneeling into pebbles he switches legs and looks around Waterfall to see if they were drawing a scene. No one was out and unless Undyne was laughing at them from the upper windows of her house, the area was clear.   
  
“I don’t have time for the waterworks. Can you stop being so dramatic? She’s just interested in your magic. She wants to study you, train you. You won't be going to your post for guard duty. Her nerd friend and she will probably stab you with a bunch of needles… and push you to your limit to train, like today.”  
  
“Thats all?” Sans hiccups.   
  
“She paid a lot up front. She’s not going to kill you… okay? She just wants to borrow you during work hours. She’ll pay your normal salary and then some. It’s just a couple of weeks.”  
  
Couple of weeks… he covers his mouth as another hiccup barrels up his throat. Sans wasn’t sure about that. Undyne would probably dust him if everyday was as intense as this one.  
  
“Do I hate you?… Nyeheheh.. Brother. I’m the only one who will _ever_ love you. Not Undyne. Not Grillby. Me. You're _mine_. How can you even ask that? And you know... when you cry like that you know I just want to ravage you right?” Boss’s dark sultry voice is a surprise to hear in public. Sans almost jolts away, afraid Boss will pick him up and screw him senseless into the mud. He wipes away at his tears quickly, the salt burning his scrapes and the cut on his ulna. He tries to make his sniffles go away quickly, anything to avoid Boss’s dacryphilia. “... Come here, brother. I’ll show you just how much I love you.”   
  
He opens his arms, waiting for Sans to approach him first before he ultimately controls the pace of the situation. Sans whimpered. It was much too late to hide his tears but he genuinely felt relieved… happy that this was a misunderstanding. ... Come to think of it. Boss could have explained this easily. Did he rile Sans up just to see him _cry_? He wouldn’t put it past him to think that far ahead. His words _do_ seem rehearsed.   
  
Regardless, he wiped away his tears and sunk into Boss’s arms. He counted in his head. Fighting his need to push away from him, Boss wasn’t going to hurt him. Not like this. It felt raw… felt foreign and burned without his jacket. Without Boss’s gloves or leather vest. The hug felt naked and wrong. Sans wanted to gag, he gripped both of his arms as if he wore a straight jacket. Letting Boss hold him for as long as they both could physically manage.   
  
“GAAAAAAAAAY~!” Undyne hollers from the top window and Boss pushes him away and stands up to yell at her.   
  
But Sans sits still. Still counting even though the contact has broke. His soul won't stop thumping. 

  
~*~*~*~

The walk home is mostly met with silence. From waterfall, the piddle of rain is sporadic and when an over head shower passes by Boss will make a small grunt for Sans to come closer to share the single umbrella. Which was pointless to share, since Boss’s right shoulder and pants are completely wet from standing outside of the safety zone.   
  
Timidly, Sans opens his mouth to ask something but his hesitance makes him regret whatever question was on his lips. Every so often Papyrus noticed Sans gaping like a fish, opening his mouth in askance only for him to pout and stare down at his feet.   
  
It was adorable really, and so he didn’t bother to ask Sans what was wrong. Amused with the scene he let Sans continue to fumble and embarrass himself.   
  
Questions were an important thing to share though. His thoughts were something he alone harboured and, without a baseline for each unreasonable doubt, his fears grew worse and worse. Answers came out of nothing. Like: Why doesn’t Boss have a second boot?   
  
Was it an endurance test? Is it fashionable? Did he not know he was missing a shoe? Or maybe… Sans was supposed to carry it and he lost it sometime when he fell unconscious… or maybe~  
  
On and on, questions ramble on in his head. The worst of those dark thoughts, thinking about how Boss intended to claim him when they got home. He could already picture Boss spreading him open, making him cry into the pillows and pushing in for his own pleasure. Having that heated tongue lap out and press against his neck…   
  
If he was honest with himself, he’d rather give Boss a bj again than to be cornered but right now… what he wanted more than anything was a nice… thick … juicy… hunk of meat. Between lettuce tomatoes pickles and buns.   
  
He didn’t know when was the last time he’d eaten. The artificial light of the underground was dimming to note that it was late evening and soon night. His magic felt empty. He didn’t think he could summon a tongue even if he wanted to.   
  
Boss throws the umbrella into a cart on the side of the road. This was the end of Waterfall, the cavern up ahead led back home. Back to Snowdin. He could feel the chill of its climate from the entrance way. Maybe thats why Boss suddenly drops his scarf on top of him.   
  
Sans looks at the tattered fabric, surprised the scarf was given to him a second time. Twice wasn’t just an accident was it? He starts to ask but Boss has already taken off without him, walking into the bracing storm without his armor, scarf, or a boot.   
  
But it didn’t matter. Home was right over the bridge. They crossed the short distance with ease and didn’t see a single monster on their way to the house. Sans was almost relieved, he couldn’t stand much longer and he was sure he’d collapse on the front steps if he didn’t get something to eat soon. But Boss walks them past the house.   
  
“B...boss? The house…”  
  
“We’re not going there.”  
  
Longing to be back at the creaky house, Sans twists his neck to look back but he’s only yanked forward by the leash. He keeps his eyes forward after that. Staring only at Boss’s broad back. Thats when he notices the bloody imprint through his shirt.   
  
“BosS! You’re!” He quiets his voice so the whole neighborhood wont hear him. “You’re bb-bleeding...” Fresh blood is slowly making the small dot of color bigger. The stain swells around the wound. Sans bites his lip… hugging boss had tore it open again. “We… we need to go huu-home, b-b-before anyone sees!”   
  
Papyrus huffs. He’d made such an effort to hide the wound before and yet now he stalks forward without worrying about such an injury… a clear goal in his mind. Sans smells the restaurant before they even come near.  
  
Grillbys.   
  
He bites his tongue before he says anymore… He had good reason to. One: he should never question Boss in public.The hierarchy of their relationship kept him safe. If he was quiet and subservient only to Boss, it gave the impression of fear and respect. Monsters didn’t touch Boss’s toys and Sans avoided an early dusting. Win, win. And if he did undermine Boss’s authority… especially in public, his brother was sure to beat the living snot out of him.   
  
And Two: He promised he’d never speak to Grillbz. Sans swallowed his nerves as Boss pushed open the heavy set doors and the steam of hot air overflowed into the cold. The scarf around his neck flapped wildly from the sudden gust of wind. Boss walks in with a limp, uneven since one of his boots was missing. Wearing the embarrassing Muffet t-shirt print, neck bare and exposed, covered in dirt and blood, and tugging Sans behind him, he made quite a scene. The bar is immediately quieted, hungry eyes dead set on him.   
  
Boss never came into Grillby’s. Everyone knew he hated the food here, hated how his worthless brother used to get drunk here. Staggering in, with blood on his chest and health at a curious number, monsters quickly wonder if they can attack the ‘great and terrifying’ Papyrus.   
  
Sans timidly walks in, his arms folded over himself. Toes curled inside his sneakers. Each foot down was as unsteady as his heartbeat. Some royal dogs are missing from the poker table. Expunged by Undyne and Boss the night before. The ones that remained seeked revenge. Everyone… seeked revenge. There was not yet a monster who Papyrus hadn’t crossed yet. Hundreds of eyes stare at him and Boss. It didn’t make him feel any better. Grillby’s was always a place he felt safe in… but now…   
  
“Papyrus,” Grillby greets, warm as ever. “Sans isn’t here right now so-” The fire monster cuts himself off when he see’s Sans small frame lag behind Papyrus.   
  
The skeleton doesn’t even look up to face Grillby. He’s not sure he wants to see this. … It's bound to be an execution. Sans stares at the floorboards and mumbles an apology.   
  
“...How can I help you boys today?”  
  
He’s so unaware of Boss’s anger. Sans cringed. He didn’t want to be here… but this was a lesson Boss wanted to teach him. So he stood by his Boss’s side, found that he had unknowingly dug his hands into the scarf around his neck. Too big for him… almost a security blanket.   
  
“I know you’ve been feeding a stray cat lately. I-”  
  
A chair shrieks across the ground, kicked by a pink feathered duck who stands up tall in Papyrus’s face and shouts in a drunken slur. “PAP. PIE. RUST!” Sans jerks his head towards the noise, but Papyrus doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are locked on Grillby. “YOU DARE ComE HERE AFTER -AFTOR- KILLIN’ MY SISTaH?!”   
  
“LOOKET ME, P’ASTARD!” He slams his wing on Papyrus’s shoulder and attempts to turn him around but instead a loud cracking sound fills the air.   
  
Like broken glass, a soul suddenly shatters and the plucky ducky starts to dust in a pile where he stands. Skewered through his center, a red bone slowly makes itself visible. Boss can materialize his attack anywhere within his sight after all. Less than a foot away was more than within his reach.   
  
As the monster crumbles fewer eyes stare at them. There is a gap in power which most of them can’t even begin to comprehend. But Grillby understands. He’s always understood. Their eye contact remains unbroken, the air still.   
  
No one is allowed to kill in the bar. Grillby always told monsters to take it outside if they wanted to fight. This place was sacred… safe…. Until boss came and now dust fell on the floor.   
  
Boss slams his fist on the bar table in front of them, coins clink in every direction some spilling to the floor as a pouch of gold is made visible to everyone but Grillby and Papyrus. The two are still having an intense staring contest. To look away could mean death.   
  
“I owe you, char breath. This should cover the cost of any food my mangy pet has leeched.”  
  
Sans looks up, nearly snapping his neck. This _wasn’t_ an execution?! He's able to get a look at Grillby now. The purple flame he’s used to seeing is darkened, his color is bluer in hue. His flame burning hotter to stand his ground. His jaw separates as he speaks, teeth protrude from the shape of flame, smoke clouds out of his mouth.   
  
“Your _‘mangy pet’_ is a _friend_. I don’t charge friends. And I certainly don’t deny a starving monster on my doorstep. Maybe you should take your cash and spend it on kitty food.” He pushes the pile of coins back. He matches Papyrus’s intensity and glare, his voice hissing with the snapping of fire.   
  
The bar is uncomfortably hot… Sans can feel himself sweating under the scarf. It's not wise to test grillby on his turf… and Boss was already weakened, despite how he acted. Nervously, Sans gripped his leash and gave it a small tug, pulling Boss’s hand just enough to get his attention.   
  
“Fine.”  
  
Papyrus is the first to break eye contact. In all his years, Sans had never anticipated Boss would step down from a fight he’d started. “...Get him a burger.” His commands shake the very floorboards, or maybe it just felt that way to Sans. After such a heavy air for so long the last thing he’d think boss would do was to order.   
  
Grillby seemingly calms down. His color becoming brighter and fades to the friendly purple hue Sans knew him by. The swirls of flame calm down and condense around the edges of his frame, he nods his head, teeth fusing back together to form the planar shape of his face. He takes a step backward and eases into the kitchen while moonwalking; a monster never showed their back to another.   
  
That's why, even as children, Sans always lagged behind Boss.   
  
This was his place. He looks up at Boss’s back, looking at the spots of blood that have darkened through the shirt. To all others, the haggard look probably makes Papyrus seem more intimidating. He’s already proved to the lesser monsters that they are only seconds away from dusting but that didn’t mean a bunch of weaklings could gang up and take him down.   
  
This place used to be safe… but now Sans looks around at all the patrons. Faces he knew, but never communicated with. They blended in with the scenery, seeing the same drunks was a comfort and now each one was a threat. He eyes each of them, knowing anyone could attack at any time. He doubted Grillby would protect Boss the same way.   
  
A brown paper bag is placed on the counter, Grillby puts it down and takes a step back. He always did that to make Sans feel better, giving him a small distance so wouldn’t be so cautious. To see the same habit repeated in Boss’s presence creates a false illusion of fear.  
  
Ivory phalanges reach out for the bag, gripping the greasy food with disgust before passing it back for his personal servant to carry for him. Sans shuffles his bags around, taking the greasy food Boss bought for him. Thankful for it. Just the smell of the bar was making Sans feel dizzy. He swore if he didn’t eat soon he might faint. He couldn’t eat it here, not after the scene Boss just made, but holding it made him feel a bit better. This confirmed he’d have dinner tonight. Sometimes that was never a guarantee.   
  
Boss leaves his coins on the table, pay meant for more than a single burger, and starts to walk out. _Good._ Sans thought. He hurried after Boss, sparing a glance at Grillby. He’d never gotten to say goodbye. He wasn’t allowed too, but he was glad he got to see the monster again.  
  
Glad to see--   
  
A red bone that struck through him.   
  
“One more thing ♪ ” Papyrus turns on his heel, mimicking Grillby. “If I _ever_ see you talk to ‘Sansy’ again… _I will KILL you. ♪_ ”   
  
Grillby fell forward, clutching the bone fragment. His teeth bare again, hot coals growl out at Papyrus. He can’t retaliate against Papyrus. Whether because it was futile to fight a higher level monster or because he respected Sans’s wishes, Grillby remains still.   
  
Sans gapes like a fish, being tugged along by the leash he is pulled outside. Unsure what is happening to Grillby right now. Did he have enough health for the attack? Was he hurt? Was he alive? Were the other monsters inside going to finish him off? Blood meant free exp. Could Grillby bleed? Was he okay?  
  
“Keep up, brother.” Papyrus pulls him through the snow, nearly dragging Sans. It takes the smaller skeleton a bit more momentum before he can remember how to use his feet and he follows behind his Boss.  
  
Snowdin has always been covered in snow, the white sidewalks, the snow covered treetops… it all blurs together into one image of white. Sans sniffles, unable to tell any buildings apart from one one another… but he knows Boss is taking them home this time.   
  
The door opens, but there is no warmth from inside. The old house is just as cold as the exterior. Papyrus strides in first, maintaining his pride until he is in the middle of the living room. He kicks his boot off and lets it land across the room. He shrugs off his shirt next, crumbling it into a ball and tosses it aside in an opposite direction. He doesn't care about his own rule on where the hell the shoes are supposed to go and before he even starts yelling, Sans already knows he’s lost his composure.   
  
“FUUUUUUCKING FURNACE!” He kicks in the broken table. The living room’s still in disarray after last night. Undyne broke their furniture and their ‘guests’ remained as dust on their floor.   
  
Sans closes the front door. Stepping in after Boss, he watches his brother come undone. Rubbing away the streaks of tears from his eyes, he sees how Papyrus takes a broken table leg and just bashes the ever loving shit out of a pile of dust. It kicks up in the air, creating a small cloud that Sans tries his best not to inhale.   
  
Maybe this wasn’t the best time to ask Boss if he could have dinner.  
  
Around the perimeter of the room, Sans tried his best to stay out of Boss’s way. Though he knew it was inevitable. After a while Boss would stop beating a dead horse monster and come after him. He picks up the shirt and boot and takes them to the laundry room while boss curses at the ground.   
  
“Stupid! FIre! Face! Fucking! Brat! Talking! To! My! Things!” Each words is punctuated with a strike to the ground, then to the sofa as Boss switches targets. Sans only took a brief peek back outside to see Papyrus’s tantrum, he ducked quickly back inside the safety of the laundry room and closed the door together.   
  
Inside Muffets take out bags he pulled out Boss’s bloody shirt, removing stuck pieces of paper towels from the fabric. He threw it in the washing machine along with half a bottle of bleach. Turned it on, and sat beside the unit.   
  
The smell of Grillby’s cooking was close by. ...Taunting him with its allure, but he refrains from touching the bag. Boss would tell him when to eat. He closes his eyes and listens to the washer spin the clothes back and forth. Back and forth…   
  
Just when he thinks things have calmed down the door is swung open. Sans has nowhere to go the laundry room is just a narrow closet filled with a washer and dryer. He picks up the bags and slowly comes towards Boss to accept any punishment.   
  
Would he be hit for crying? For making Boss get hurt? He bites his tongue as he passes Boss in the small hall. He’s shirtless and sweaty, reeking of blood and dust that he’s spread along the house in his rage. Sans keeps his distance, but it does not look like Boss wants to hit him.   
  
Come to think of it, this was the first time in years Sans had seen Boss shirtless. Usually it was pants-less. His soul, just a small glow cradled inside his ribs. Each rib itself bares old scars from battles Sans had never seen before. A long slice travels up his right side, showing the arc of a blade that once cut deep into him. On the right, true ribs 3 and 4 are bleeding so much Sans isn’t sure if Papyrus should be physically able to stand. The top was splintered and fractured all the way to his sternum the bottom had a gaping hollow point between where the spear stabbed him. Around it, caked in orange are dried flecks of crusty marrow, but moving around so much had only shifted the wounds to worsen.  
  
“Come.” Boss commands.   
  
He walks into the kitchen and pulls out a chair for himself. He sits cross legged, his temper completely soothed… for now. It would only take a pin drop to rile him up again. “Sit, brother.” He points at the other chair to clarify, already realising Sans would have dropped to the floor like he’d been trained to do.   
  
Sans teeters to the table, dropping the bags by the chair and sat down with Papyrus. The act felt awkward… too… familiar. He wasn’t an equal with Boss. Sitting at the table made him curious as to what was going on. Monsters didn’t just threaten a whole bar with death, scream at the top of their lungs, pumble someone's ashes with a stick and then have tea to laugh about it. Especially not Boss, who had a plan for every situation.   
  
“W..whats this abbout Boss?”  
  
“You’ve been useless today… as always.” Sans looks down at the table, his hands scrape at his pants, trying to stuff themselves into pockets out of habit. His sweater missing, his hands instead sweep up against his sides and hit the bottom of the kitchen table. His knuckles slam against the hardwood but he doesn't let out a sound. There were way worse pains than this. Some he might even get very soon. “...But I’m bleeding out and need your healing. You’re not allowed to leave this table until you’ve eaten enough to replenish your magic.”   
  
That sounded… _great_ actually. Sans was starving… to hear he’d been given permission to eat in the safety of their home was the best news he had all day. Only there was one problem.   
  
A big problem. He didn’t want to bring it up, in fear his food privileges might be taken from him. He dug his fingers into his pants pockets and avoided eye contact with Boss. He’d be honest now, if he didn’t the repercussions for him would only be worse later.   
  
“I.. um can’t heal, Boss.”   
  
“...You mean... you refuse to heal me? Your own brother? What, you’d rather heal that walking fireplace than have to-!!”  
  
“N-no! No! Boss!” His hands smack over his mouth, realising with absolute horror he’d interrupted Papyrus while he was talking. Not just talking, _accusing_ him. With no way out he continues, hoping if he talked long enough he could talk his way out of this mess. “I can’t heal any- anymore! I haven’t b-been able to heal in y..years, Boss! Honest!”   
  
“Since when… You’ve always been Lv1. When did you ever lose that ability?”  
  
“I’m Lv6 n-n-now…” He mumbles around the words, it somehow feels wrong to admit out loud. It’s not exactly something to be proud about. And his stats only boosted in defence and agility. Completely pointless in a world where strength was everything.   
  
Boss seemed lost in thought. Trying to recall a time when Sans had killed, but cannot think of a single instance. Sans had been glued to his hip, if anyone would know he’d leveled up it should have been him.  
  
“I… can help ba-bandage those wounds, Boss. If..its o...okay.”   
  
“Finish your dinner.” He gets up and starts to leave.“I’m taking a shower.”  
  
“B..but your-”  
  
“Shower.” The sharp word effectively shuts Sans up, but he doesn't stop worrying about Boss. He watches him leave, turning his neck as far as he could while sitting in the chair. He hears the stairs creak above him and finally the bathroom door close, the shower water following after.   
  
Straining to hear, just a little while longer, he awaits any abrupt sounds that signaled Boss falling to the the floor. There’s nothing. He grips the table, ashamed to have been worried over nothing. Boss was the strongest. He’d never die from such a small wound. Boss’s attack only did so much damage… bleeding didn’t take hp. Not unless he lost enough of it…   
  
Upstairs is quiet, except for the white noise of the shower. Sans breathes a sigh. He was worried about nothing. Boss was fine. … Grillby was fine. He had to believe that. He held the burger in his hand, likely the last burger he’d get from Grillby, and took a big bite from its side.   
  
… _cold_. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if I have to add any tags or warnings!  
> ゜+.(。´>艸<)*.☆Thank you for reading!


	4. Sick Brotherly Needs

Sans finishes up his meal, picking the wrapper for bits of melted cheese. Desperately salvaging every crumb and dripping from the bag. He folds the paper, into triangles and holds onto it. As silly as it was… this shred of paper was his. It had meaning... and worth… unlike Sans.  
  
Boss had marched into enemy territory for this burger. It could be the last burger Grillby might ever make… The paper was an important memento of that. Something that belonged to him. The scrap of paper had more value and effect than his own miserable life.   
  
He gets down from his chair and puts away the bags from Muffets. Having obeyed boss’s orders his magic was somewhat refueled at least, better than it was before. He didn’t feel like falling over and he felt strong enough to summon a barrage of bone attacks… for all the worth those 1 point attacks would be.   
  
The shower still runs above, giving him time to tidy up the house before boss yelled at him for the mess. He stares at the ruins of the living room and tiredly grabs a broom and a mop bucket.   
  
Dust flew into his face and he held his breath as he started to move everything around. Gasping only when the sediments had fallen enough for him to pretend he wasn’t inhaling it. There was nothing he could do for the broken table, he dragged it to the front door to be thrown out later and blocked the way.  
  
Among the dust were few belongings of the guard. Jackets and pants were tossed into the laundry bin to be reused. Jewelry, gold, valuable junk was put under the floorboards. Boss’s stash.   
  
The gap in the floor was full of precious gems and gold pieces from years of raids and pillaging Papyrus had exerted. Some of Sans’s stuff was here too. The first receipt he and Pap got at the movie theatre, some of Paps baby teeth, even a small urn from his brothers first kill. Precious memories…   
  
Holding the hamburger wrapper in his palm, he hesitates to add to the collection. Boss would definitely throw out the crumpled up greasy paper if Sans stored it here. Boss would say it was garbage and wouldn’t care for anything sentimental like that. That's why so few of Sans’s momentos remained in this stash. The important things Sans wanted to keep were left in his room… probably thrown out now.   
  
He tried to ignore the loss of his stuff and focussed on cleaning. The mess was swept, pillows fluffed, and soon the living room looked normal again.  
  
Everything was normal.   
  
Except for Sans.The small skeleton was covered in sweat and dirt from training, and now dust. His hands shook as he started to put away the cleaning supplies. His mind had been blank through the routine of cleaning but he’s glad there was little blood today. Monsters that were killed in one hit are unable to bleed and extend their agony. They just- poof. That in itself was scary, the moments during death… realising you were already falling down and unable to do anything about it.   
  
Sans shuddered. The feeling was too vivid.   
  
Above the stairs the shower still ran with a constant ‘shhh’ downpour. Was Boss still in there? The shower was long overdue to stop now… Sans imagined, and in a small moment of delight, he imagined his brother had dusted and washed down the drain with that dirty water.   
  
But the guilt from even thinking that made his stomach clench.   
  
How dare he think of anything bad happening to Papyrus! This is why Sans was lower than trash… This was why he deserved to be beat.   
  
He shouldn’t even joke about dusting boss.   
Boss saved him today and-   
Boss had always saved him from the horrors of the underground.   
Papyrus was the only reason Sans got up in the morning.   
The only reason he would go to work and try to make a living for them…  
And now that his little brother became so strong and dependable- it was a wonder why he ever kept weak ol Sans still around. A pathetic older brother whose only use was to be a fleshlight. ...And even then still couldn’t perform the way Boss wanted.   
  
He was useless.   
But Boss kept him.   
Sans stood ashamed of himself.   
The small feeling of glee - of freedom was now replaced with dread.   
He was a horrible older brother. - A horrible partner.   
  
He should never have thought the Boss could dust from such a small wound. Still… it was unsettling how long the water was running. It wouldn’t be too far a stretch to think the worst had happened. …   
  
… What if his wounds were more serious than he showed?  
  
Nervous, he started up the stairs, determined to find out if his bro was okay. When he reached the top he turned an ear towards the outside of the door, listening for any movement or bump that might prove Boss was still alive. Instead the door opens on his face.   
  
“What are you doing there?!” Papyrus’s shrill voice scolds him. “I could have dusted you, idiot!”  
  
“i’m... sorry boss. I…” -was nervous something had happened, he want’s to say. But no words can escape from his throat except a gasping wheeze. Boss’s ribcage no longer had a oval form to it, the bones scraped with scars and bruises had collapsed on one side. It stabbed upward though his chest as the fragmented bone hung on by marrow.  
  
Sans slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from gagging. He’d seen marrow before, countless times. He’d purposely dig through his own tibia to just to cope through some days, but this was beyond self mutilation … Paps needed a doctor! A surgeon! Some professional to align and splint that wound back together. If Paps had lungs right now they would be popped like a balloon. His soul is dimly lit just aside the protrusion of bone. From the glimpse Sans got, it didn’t look cracked.   
  
“Are you done staring, mutt?” Boss walks past him to his bedroom, but leaves his door open so Sans can watch him pull off what little cloth he had hiding his form. A surge of shock and morbid curiosity flit through the smaller skeleton, as he sheepishly turns his head away from the naked form and yet steals a glance at Boss’s full body.   
  
“That looks really ba- really..ba -ba!” He takes a breath to calm himself. “- really painful. Boss? Should. I ... call’a doctor?”  
  
“I’m fine!!” Boss wriggles into a pair of pajamas. “I will not have some lowly vermin touch me!”  
  
If a doctor was ‘lowly vermin’ what did that make Sans? If Sans still had the ability, Boss would have trusted him to heal his injuries. Did that make Sans better than a doctor? Or was everyone ‘lowly vermin’ compared to the Great and Terrible Papyrus? He watches as the ‘oh so scary’ skeleton shimmies a shirt over his head, careful of agitating his injuries.   
  
Oh right… night time. Sans backed away from the door. There was nothing he could do for his bone headed brother anymore. Paps didn’t want help to patch the wounds closed and Sans couldn’t do anything about that. The only thing he could do was return to his room and hope to god he stays quiet enough that Boss didn’t want anything more from him tonight.   
  
Slowly he backs away from the bedroom and moves to his own down the hall.There was nothing more he’d like then to plop down into his own bed and rest… but upon entering he is greeted only by the cold hollow room. His bed was the same, still a lumpy mattress on the floor… but the lack of furniture made his stomach turn. He’d forgotten his room is empty- everything he owned was thrown out without so much as an explanation. Now, knowing Boss didn’t sell him off - it made less sense that his room was empty. Sans sucked in a breath. Maybe this was just how Boss decided to clean… throwing out the trash of his trashy brother.   
  
The small skeleton crawled into his bed and laid down in the dark. Finally, a moment alone. A moment of peace.   
  
But only a moment, because Boss’s heavy footsteps prevailed outside the hall and stomped their way up to his door. Sans held a breath, watching the light under the crack in the frame become blotted out by his brothers menacing figure. He’d expected the door to slam open on its hinges like always. Locks weren’t allowed and the wall had been banged up so many times the dent had the shape of the doorknob - so hearing the soft padded knocks against the wood through him off.   
  
At first he wasn’t sure he heard it, but again the rap of knuckles against the door made a pattern for entry. The skeleton blinked, unsure how to address the action. What did people usually say? When Sans had knocked on Boss’s door, he usually yelled at him to go the fuck away. There were films to fill in those blanks in courtesy and communication. Anime characters would shout ‘baka, baka!’ if their little brother came in while they were changing and throw an assortment of stuffed animals. Sans didn’t have any of the sort, but even he knew that would not go well with Boss. He’d be insulted Sans even thought of throwing anything, even a pillow, at him.   
  
The knocks have quieted now. Falling silent. Sans hitched his breath. Maybe Boss thought he was sleeping? Those footsteps back away from the door, light flooding the crack again. Sans slowly got up from his cot. … How strange for Boss not to just barge his way in. Why would he walk away? Why would he knock so softly? These actions weren’t entirely rare, Pap had been a shy kid when they were baby bones. He was always afraid to disturb Sans back when Sans made all the decisions for the two of them. It wasn’t like Pap to chicken out. Curiosity got the better of him so he tiptoed to the door, opening it just in time to catch Boss heading back to his room. His broad back faced him, the patterned words ‘bad to the bone’ repeat across the patched black fabric. “Boss?” His voice is a whisper, despite no one in the house being asleep. Still, he’s heard.   
  
Papyrus turns towards him, the usual scowl on his face replaced with something sheepish. “I thought you were sleeping.” He’s not angry, yet he crosses his arms over his chest in an odd way - as if it would make any difference to better hide the wound they both know lies under the carefully buttoned shirt.   
  
“I saw your sh-! Sh-shadow under the door…” Sans tried not to look. From the defensive way Boss stood, it would be better not to draw attention to the injury. Besides, any sympathy shown to the larger skeleton would be misconstrued as weakness. “Did… you want something? Boss?”   
  
The air seems to hang on that statement. If Sans had hair it would be standing on the back of his neck. A shiver of fear ran through his spine as he imagined his brothers lewd coiled smirk saying ‘yes, dear, brother. I want you to undress…’ and demanding Sans to bend to his form. That's the only thing Boss ever wanted from him now a days. It made Sans nervous to wait for the words. He subconsciously flinched as Boss came closer.   
  
“I want you…” Sans clenched his teeth. Damnit! He should have stayed in his room and pretended to be asleep. He shouldn’t have come out and ask questions! There was a million other things he’d rather do… like take a shower… sleep… hell, even watch tv if the gods allowed it. “...to read me a story.”   
  
“Hah?”   
  
Sans looked up at his brother, somehow seeing a glimpse of the same timid baby bones with his front teeth missing and perky smile in those cracked and jagged features. In that one simple eager statement, Sans had been reminded that his little brother was still here. Still burried deep down in the abusive action the boss made. Papyrus was and always would be his baby bro first. He loved him. How could he not?   
  
Sans smiled, a familiar flutter in his chest. “I’d love to read for you!” What would Pap want to read? He wasn’t a baby bones any more… the same bedtime stories would bore him. But that brought up a whole new set of questions. What did boss LIKE to read? As far as hobbies went… Paps was limited. He liked sparring and testing his strength against lesser foes, but that was something better to do in the practical sense. A book probably wouldn’t hold Paps interest when he could just as easily pick up a sword.   
  
What else then? Hobbies… hobbies? Pap liked to cook, but a recipe wasn’t something he’d have Sans read alloud right? Did Pap like mystery books? Sci- fi? Fantasy? … It dawned on him that he had no clue what kind of genre Pap liked. He didn’t even think Pap had any books. Maybe he could read his brother his own books. Some principles in string theory might put the bone head to sleep… but then again. Sans grimaced at his own toes, remembering his room had been cleaned of his collectables over the years. Books and trinkets thrown away equally.   
  
He slowly followed Papyrus back to the large bedroom he knew by the faint smell of their sex sticking to the floor. ...and on the bed. … and over the dresser. And smeared on the walls and curtains… come to think of it. Sans really didn’t want to be here. Coming to Paps room always ended in the same mindless activity…   
  
A book is hovered in front of him, leaving enough space between himself and Sans so that there would be no late night screams from their fingers brushing for an instant. Sans appreciates the wide gap, but knows its intention well. He holds the hardcover book in both hands and stares at the title.   
  
( * Dating Manual. * )  
  
...What the fuck was this shit?   
  
( *Advanced edition - fold out poster inside! Over 300 positions and full color charts! *)  
  
...WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS SHIT?  
  
...  
  
Papyrus cautiously crawled into bed, grunting to hide a whimper of pain when he turned the wrong way on his side. A pang of guilt surges Sans to come forward and fearlessly stands by Paps bed. He clears his throat.   
  
“Ahem. hum.. Chapter one. Lips, Legs, Breast and Ass… and Why We Love Them.” Sans turned the page, shocked to see the copious amounts of ink staining the pages. Every sentence was highlighted. Every quote- underlined. Papyrus had written in the margins and edited parts of paragraphs to have a better cadence.This book was his bible and obsession.  
  
Sans leaned a shoulder on the bedpost and watched as Boss made himself comfortable, propped on pillows and closed his eyes.. He looked peaceful… practically dead, being an unmoving skeleton and all. Sans listens for soft nasally breathing and watches the small rise and fall in his brothers chest, making sure Boss was ok before he started. Without eye contact, and without fear of Boss getting up, he reads smoothly and effortlessly.   
  
“In the animal kingdom, creatures take on mates that fit their needs for survival. A mate must be able to provide by hunting or gathering. It must be able to make shelter. And most of all, it must be able to keep the species alive by bearing young. When searching for a mate, it is important to evaluate and examine these vital areas to ensure your chosen partner is available to reproduce.”   
  
Sans couldn't believe he was reading this to his baby brother. ...Sex wasn’t something so foreign to them… but the ‘talk’ was. He wondered how much this book talked in depth about the topic. Quickly, he glossed over the next couple pages to prepare himself for what was ahead. There was a diagram of positions in the next chapter. Some circled and double circled in order of most interesting to Papyrus’s increasing sexual appetite.   
  
Sans’s jaw dropped as he scanned through the pages. Looking at two humans spread eagle on one page and on the next how to make your own edible lubes. There were far and few pages discussing the biology of humans which couldn’t be applied for monsters… especially the end bit about pregnancy...Sans wished he hadn’t seen that. He quickly flipped back though the pages.   
  
A handmade bookmark fell from the seam, dangling on a beaded rope with seashells and hard macaroni. Sans pulled it back, not losing the page and paled when he saw a photo of his own face glued to the marker. Not just a creepy photo of him when Sans didn’t even know they had a camera in the house… but a photo of him covered in ecto slime and wasted on the floor - bones red and sweaty and scrapes freshly bleeding. Small laminated hearts and bowtie macaroni and glitter framed the image.   
  
An inhuman ‘huaa?!’ fell from Sans’s lips in a pitch that came from the very back of his throat like a whine or a whistle. Something certainly sharp enough to make the smaller skeleton cough on his own spittle. He could feel himself blushing so bright his eyes buzzed with the excess of magic, pupils growing in horror.   
  
“B..Boss?”  
  
“Mmn-?”   
  
“Is… this the right book? The book you want tonight? The book you want me- ME - to read?! To you?! To like… look at? ”  
  
“Sans...” Shit. He knows he’s in trouble when Boss uses his real name, but he hasn’t done anything to get him in such immediate trouble! Was the question itself something boss disliked? Was this actually the wrong book and Sans saw something he shouldn't have? He began sweating in place, unaware that his brother simply let down his guard at night. The lankier skeleton was already lulling to sleep. Even without a proper story, the stress and fatigue on his body were compelling him to sleep. But he catches himself, mid drift his head snaps up slightly and his eyes blink in and out of existence quickly attempting to stay away a bit longer. “If you don’t.. feel like reading then stop. I’m falling asleep anyway.”   
  
“Oh! Right. Right, Boss! - I’ll um..” Sans spins around in a circle to look for a place to drop off the book. He leaves it on the night table and quickly nods, ensuring himself that this was okay. Even though books didn’t belong on the table… or the floor. He’s not quite sure where Pap was keeping this book but he’s glad he’s not in trouble for it. Now to get away before he jinxed that. “Goo-” His voice caught in his throat. No matter how many times it happened, it still filled Sans with a dreadful embarrassment. He looked down at his toes, feeling safer to speak to the floor so he can heave a breath to properly say “goodnight Papyrus.”   
  
\---!!!  
  
As soon as the words slip from his mouth, he smacks his hands over his jaw. Did Pap notice? He held his breath, not quite sure what was going to push Boss over the edge. He looked restful… but that could change in a minute. He could easily get out of bed and slam Sans against the wall, strangle him just enough for spots to fade into his vision. To keep his place of power as Boss. Not Papyrus. Not a brother. …  
  
“Sans.” This was it! The small skeleton shook, his bones tinking against each other like windchimes. Oh gods no-! Please stop. It would be so much worse if Boss heard him shaking like a baby bones! “-Stay here tonight.” Paps mumbles.   
  
“... oh- kay.” Sans nods his head, agreeing before he even had a chance to process it. He returns back to the bedpost to stay by Boss’s side and slides down until his bottom hits the floor. Like a good dog.   
  
Minutes ticked away quickly. Boss’s usual breathing was permeated with occasional coughs and grunts that woke him in the middle of his sleep. Sans listened to the sound of his breath during calmer moments. The lul of his breathing was like afternoon rain, the noise was low and serene and Sans thought he could fall asleep to it if he listened for long enough.   
  
He couldn’t help his eyes wander around the room. Curious about everything Boss owned. He wondered when the boss had brought that poster home or when he had started collecting music albums? The desk boss used had a broken leg, held up by wads of newspaper and tape. Sans remembered now how wobbily it felt when he and boss used it. He wondered if it broke before or after.   
  
“Sns..”   
  
The breath that parts from Papyrus is small enough that it could be passed off as a snore or a dream, but Sans wouldn’t take the risk. He’d acted plenty independent today… if he ignored Boss when he was deliberately being called then there would be no safe place in the underground to hide. “Yes…? Boss?” Sans offers back in small whispers.   
  
“Up.op.” Those mumbled words sound more like a hiccup than words.Sans leans away from the bedpost to angle himself in a way to stare at his brother. Paps was still lying calmly in bed, eyes closed and breathing soft.   
  
Oh. Sans was too curious to notice before, but the light was probably disturbing Pap. It was hard to fall asleep with a giant spotlight on the ceiling. Whatever vocalization Boss made just now was probably to ask for the lights off. Sans rocked out of his spot on the floor and crawled to his hands and knees, pushing himself up slowly enough not to disturb the creaking floorboards.   
  
Slowly he made his way to the edge of the wall and flicked off the switch, immersing them in darkness. Faintly, from the boarded up window, light started to seep in through the slants of wood and revealed shadows in the room. Sans tip toed back to the spot by the bed and stared at Boss.   
  
So peaceful sleeping like that… except he wasn't asleep. He’s awake and his red eyelights stare back at him, waiting.   
  
Sans stands in place. Watching as those beads of magic flicker in and out of consciousness, fading to the back of his darkened skull. When at last they do, his eye sockets slowly morph to close; blinking shut in the way their kind only did when they felt safe enough to sleep.   
  
Sans envied that. He often fell asleep with his eyes open, eye sockets wide and empty. Ready for his magic to snap backup and surge into pupils so he could be aware of his surroundings. True sleep was a luxury given to the strong.   
  
He fell to his bottom and rested his head on the floor boards beside the bed. This was fine. Sleeping here, in boss’s room was fine. It wasn’t as comfortable as his lumpy mattress but the floor was all the same to him.   
  
“Sns. op. Ere.” The mumbles continue. Somewhere between his conscious mind and dreams Papyrus was trying to talk to him. Sans wondered if he should respond. He didn’t know if Boss sleep talked… but wouldn’t it be great to here secrets from him in his sleep? Stuff he wouldn’t admit when he was awake…   
  
“Boss…” Sans whispered. “... are you proud of me?”  
  
No answer.   
  
Of course not… Boss was sleeping after all. It would be foolish to think he could comprehend words… much less respond to them. Sans sighed, bringing up his arm to the back of his head as he lied on the floor. He should try to sleep as much as he could… Undyne would be training him tomorrow. He had to be ready for that.   
  
The night is so silent. In the Fall, when the runoff toxins from the core made the entire underground just a little hotter, sometimes crickets and moles would find their way to snowdin through the tunnels. They would fill the night with loud chirps and skutters through trashcans. Sans hated those sounds when they first got the house. He was so used to hearing the wash of rain from the dumps that noise of anything else always stirred him awake. Noise was danger and danger meant he had to grab his sleepy little brother and run and hide… just long enough for a new day to start.   
  
Now.. the sound of silence usually means a sneak attack. It was odd to hear silence at all, except when someone didn’t want to be heard. So the sound of Boss’s breathing was a relief. It was nice to hear the steady percussion of his brothers distorted snores and sighs.   
  
A loud snore rolls through Boss’s bones and startles him awake. The sharp inhale- a clear indication of pain. Sans listened to the rustling of sheets. The uncomfortableness in finding a good sleeping position. He punched at the pillows and straightened his back again to sleep at that upward angle.   
  
“Sans…” The clarity in that whispered sentence told Sans all he needed about the situation. Urgency and desperation. It wasn’t a name, it was a command. A call in the dark.   
  
“Yes boss. I’m here.”  
  
“Good. … good.” Papyrus grew quiet again, a small cough puncturing his breath.   
  
Was that all Paps wanted? To know he was there in the room? Sans was sure he would have been sent on some fetch quest. Just to make sure he brings himself to ask. “...do.. You want some… a glass of water?”   
  
“No. no.. “   
  
Sans nodded his head, even though boss wouldn’t see. A minute went by in akward silence. Just as he thought Boss drifted back to sleep his voice came back.   
  
“Where are you..”   
  
Sans gulped. “I’m here Boss. I didn’t leave.”   
  
“On the floor?”  
  
“... y.. Yes sir.”   
  
“...”   
“...”  
  
Silence again. It didn’t feel right for their to be silence right after he was interrogated. Sans knew something was up. Something was wrong.   
  
Did Boss forget he invited him here? Was sleeping here bad? Should he go back to his own room?   
  
“Did you take a shower?”  
  
“Ah… n.. No. No. boss.”   
  
“.hmph…”  
  
Hmph? Hmph!? What did that mean? Boss never made a ‘hmph’ sound like some indignant teenager. The punctuating silence just made Sans’s anxiety ramp up higher. Rather than feeling sleepy, now he was wide awake - anxiously waiting for the next words. Would there be any ‘next words’ ? did boss fall asleep again? Was he awake? He couldn’t tell. Boss’s quiet breaths were so low compared to the pounding his soul made in his ribs.   
  
“Come up here.” There’s a light tap on the bed where Boss must be inviting him into empty space. “Up here. Sans. Sleep here tonight.”   
  
Without even looking, Sans imagines the spot on the bed next to Boss.   
  
Absolutely not! He shook his head, the rattle of his bones giving enough answer to Boss. First of all- if he got up there … ‘sleeping’ with boss was the furthest thing away from sleep possible. To be honest, Sans though this appetite for sex had been squashed by his condition. Then what? What was up? Up… on top of him? Did boss want him to ride him? Beads of sweat roll off his skull and his eyes shrink down until he’s not even sure the shadows are in front of him or afterimages left by the subtraction of light.   
  
“Brother…” Boss taunts. “Don’t keep me waiting.”   
  
Sans bites his bottom lip, weighing his options but he had none… he was always going to meet the same punishment if he didn’t listen to boss. He pushed himself up from the floor and faced the bed.   
  
He didn’t want to do this… didn’t want to… touch him. Maybe if he begged… Maybe boss was too weak to beat him.   
  
“... I… don’t want ..to.” He felt vomit coming up to his throat, tasting of salt and grease from the burger. His teeth chattered the way they did when he was cold… but the room wasn’t cold. It was Boss’s intimidating silence that made the room unbearably frozen.   
  
“... Its softer than the floor.” Boss’s voice is devoid of anger. He only sounded tired. Tired of Sans’s bullshit… but tired none the less. “Look. I’ll put pillows.” Boss says. He sits up, removing pillows from his back and making a dividing wall on the mattress.   
  
“You don’t want to… ‘sleep’ with me?” Sans asks.   
  
“No. I want to sleep. … Can you…… Can you. stay by my side? Please?”   
  
Please? That was the first time he’d heard Boss say please. Maybe it was the first time Boss had ever said ‘please’. Since when did his little brother sound so timid and pathetic? Since when did Boss ever give him an option? Asking Sans if he can stay like it was a choice he had. Who the hell was this intruder and where was his real brother?   
  
“Look. Pillows.” Boss mumbles. “So we wont touch. … You wont’ scream… or vomit like this right? … I’ll stay on my side… Just … stay by my side.. Please.”  
  
Please, twice in a row now. Something was definitely wrong with Paps. Maybe that injury broke his head too.   
  
But how could Sans refuse after his little brother begged him twice now?   
  
He held his breath, gathering his courage to get on the bed first and then crawl over his brother. The lump underneath the blankets that was legs and feet… it brushed him once while he passed but Sans held his breath and assured himself they weren’t touching. They weren’t touching. It was just a blanket.   
  
He sunk into the right side of the bed, head hitting an excess pillow with a ‘floof’...   
  
“Boss... “ He whispered lowly, knowing somewhere in the dark Paps was only a foot away from him. He scooched over to the wall, having comfort in being on the furthest edge of the bed away from Papyrus. “Boss… is this okay?”   
  
“... is.. Okay.” His whispered voice sounded so low… so tired… and dejected.   
  
“Boss... Are… you okay?”  
  
“...”  
  
“Boss?”  
“.....nn”  
  
He sounded like he had fallen asleep again. Sans stared over the wall of pillows. He kept his hands and feet tucked in on his side, curled up in a ball. If it was like this… and Pap wasn’t touching him. It was okay… to sleep in this bed. It was okay, Sans kept telling himself.  
  
The bed was softer. Warmer, since the cotton blocked out the cold of winter. Much warmer than his own raggedy sheets or springy broken mattress.   
  
Sans closed his eyes. Really closed his eyes. His soul was pounding. But among the noise… his brothers soft snores filled his skull. The night was quiet. The room was dark. The bed warm and inviting… It smelled like the faint soap Papyrus had used to wash up. The linen smelled like lavender, fresh from the laundry… They hadn’t slept like this since they were kids, camping in the dump, coiled together for warmth and survival.   
  
But here it was safe.   
  
It was comfortable.   
  
And for the first time…   
It felt like home.   
  
Sans fell asleep with a small smile on his face. 

  



	5. Unspoken Intent

In the morning; when the artificial light had filled the underground and monsters began to merrily take on their duties of chucking ice, opening shops, shoveling snow from their driveway, and patrol their daily route, Undyne had come to the skeleton brothers house and impatiently began alternating between ringing the doorbell and rapping the door.  
  
The combination of sound startled Sans awake from his deep lul of sleep. The restful night had stripped him of all the defenses he usually developed for the morning.   
  
First it was his eye lights, the red orbs had manifested under his eyelids and yet the world was still dark inside his skull. A new experience, for the skeleton who slept with his eyes open. Then, after an onslaught of banging on the front door to further wake him, Sans stared up at the ceiling- wide awake. Instantly unfamiliar with the roundish beige fan and the popcorned ceiling and the odd off color maroon painted walls.   
  
He sat up, expecting pain to shoot through his ribs but the only aching he had was the urge to lie back down into the warm softness of the bed. But despite how lazy the rest of the underground made him out to be, he wasn't one to ignore an obvious threat at the front door in favor for more sleep. Already adrenaline had punched him awake and Sans tried not to panic as the pounding on the door continued. It was Undyne, his mind put together, she was here to train him again... because she owned him now. In a way.  
  
Sans yawned into his sleeve and rolled to the edge of the mattress to get up, but he bumped into something. Something that groaned and stifled a cough...taking in his first sharp intake of air. Sans shrieked, backing away to the farthest side of the bed with a _'Eeep_!'  
  
Now he was awake.  
  
Boss rolled his eyes, too early for yelling next to his eardrums and in addition with the banging from downstairs. His ribcage shuttered as he steeled a breath again and slowly exhaled from his nasal cavity. Slow and patient, despite the sensation of pain un-numbing from waking. "Get the door." Boss glares at him from half lidded eyes. "If it's not Undyne- kill em."  
  
Sans gulped. That was a tall order from someone who had just learned that Sans had an ounce of lv to his name.  
  
He kneels by Papyrus' side and lets their visitor bang away at the door. They didn't matter. In the morning light all the crevices and scowl lines of Boss's face are visible and perhaps it shows more wear than he intends. That same feeling of pity swirls in his stomach, his little bro all damaged and weak... It wasn't a good look.  
  
"You want... want some water?.. Boss?" Sans offered, though he had no clue how he was going to get it. Moving around his brother was an impossible endeavor to not touch him - or shift him- and even though he knows for a fact Boss clearly isn't in any condition to lunge for him or slap him the skeleton is very much still within arms reach. At the very least, within the range of magic. Although Sans was sure Boss would never turn his magic on him, it was sure to be a one hit defeat… Which made this interaction uncomfortable to say the least. The small skeleton made a move to stuff his hands in his pockets only to pantomime the act, rudely he remembered he wasn’t wearing his hoodie today. It had been covered in sweat and dust and dumped in the wash. Without its weight, he felt a bit naked- not a single barrier between him and the other- so he scrunches up against a pillow.   
  
“Just. get. the. d o o r.” Papyrus grinds out and throws an arm over his eyes, ending what little conversation had started. Carefully, Sans wedges himself to the back of the bed and wall and slides around Pap on his hands and knees. Stumbling out, he regains his balance and footing as he dismounts from the mattress. The bed jostles slightly from the absence of his weight, but he lands to the floor without screaming again and both of them consider that a small win.   
  
“Don’t let her inside.”  
“...kay.”  
“...”  
“I mean, yes. . … Yes sir!... Boss…..?? … okay..”   
  
Before Sans leaves he draws the curtains closed tighter, twisting the fabric so it wont let in an ounce of light. It looked like, for the first time in years, Boss was going to sleep in. What an odd turn of events today was.The lazy brother was waking up early for guard training, and Boss was grumpy for more sleep. Sans almost snickered as he gently closed his brothers door and continued downstairs where the banging on the door proceeded.   
  
A lot of locks blocked the front door, some that Sans couldn't reach without using magic, but at last he finishes unbolting the door and pulls it open to meet captain- ...Grilby.   
  
Sans’ jaw falls when he sees the flame monster. The other looks well, despite being stabbed by Boss just the other night. If anything has changed at all, his color has dimmed. The royal purple hues of flame have diminished into humble blue. It's a slight change, something other monsters wouldn’t even bat an eye over. Maybe they would think its a style change for fire monsters… like braiding hair or getting a tattoo. Undyne certainly didn’t seem to notice. But that was besides the point...the main thing was -  
  
What the fuck was Grillby doing here?!   
  
Was he okay to walk? Was he here for revenge? Sans’ fingers gripped the doorframe tightly, but Grillby certainly didn’t look vindictive. He stood politely outside, not even attempting to barge into the house and finish off Boss. Was there something else he wanted? Why doesn’t he say anything?  
  
Oh fuck.   
  
Grillby can’t say anything. Sans stilled himself in the doorway as rules and commands flood through his head. Sans shouldn’t be here! Sans can’t be here! He promised Boss he would never talk to Grillby ever EVER ever again! And if he wanted his friend to stay alive he had to bide by that rule! But then again... Boss said if it wasn’t Undyne at the door then - _kill em._  
  
Sans shivered, his legs buckled under the weight of that command.There was no way Sans would be able to take out the monster! Even if he tried every single one of his attacks would be pointlessly wasted. 1 damage wouldn’t do much… except end what little of their friendship remained and Sans could never do that… not to Grillby.   
  
But he couldn’t break Boss’s rules either. He couldn’t offer a small greeting to Grillby. He couldn’t ask why he was here. He couldn’t ask if he was okay.   
  
Sans gulped dryly, there had to be a way around this. Should he close the door? Should he pretend he didn’t see him? Sans’ hands trembled on the door frame, the countless options made his mind confused. It was obvious he was openly gaping now? Right? Why didn’t Grillby say anything? Why was he here?! Run idiot. Go away! … please.   
  
That’s when Undyne popped into view, pigtails whipping around her head, as she spoke for both of them. “Sup Sans. Where’s Papyrus?”  
  
If his nerves weren’t already riled up, that one question sent Sans over the edge. He jumped slightly on his toes, trying to make up a lie that didn’t sound forced.   
  
“B..bssss is - _ulp_!” Oh no- hiccups. Sans winced his eyes closed, he was already embarrassed about the stutter… now his damn tick is punctuated by hiccups and the off-taste of vomit seeping to his mouth between each hic- like bacon grease.   
  
“Boss is g...gonn _-ugp_!- gonna stay- stay home today. He was co- _hyup_!-coohhhooking and he’s bus-” He takes a sharp inhale to stop his nerves, hiccuping in his throat as hot tears began to pool in his eyes. “Bissse. Busy! Boss is busy!” Sans all but yells. Those words are so hard to pour from his mouth. Lies and deceit …Boss has made sure to beat him for any slivers of lies. Now his bones trembled just telling a simple fib.  
  
“Booss said - he’s busssy… today.” Sans sums up. Trying to calm himself and avoid looking at Grillby. Grillby was so close… this didn’t count as talking to him, did it? It wasn’t direct. Clearly Sans was talking to Undyne! Answering Undyne!- so… “Why...is… _he…_ Here?” didn’t seem like such a bad question to ask. Sans hated the hiss in his voice, but it would be better this way. To make _him_ feel unwelcome. - to push _him_ away. Naturally. It would be better if he just left...  
  
“Oh, I asked Grillby to come.” Undyne pinned down her flowing pigtails, a new look for her, before she crossed her arms over her wooly coat and looked back at the flamesman. “You’re both summoners, so I thought he could help with our magic training today.” Grillby tapped his fingers together awkwardly, nodding at the floor much like Sans was.   
  
“Did… Boss say this was... o-okay?” His murmurs were a little over a whisper but Undyne hadn’t heard him, probably for the best. If Undyne knew how much Boss hated Grillby and his bar he wouldn’t be on this doorstep right now. And more questions would invite Undyne to ask Boss directly. Which absolutely could not happen! Sans bobbed back and forth in the doorway, trying to consider what would be best for him. Knowing for sure he couldn’t let these two in the house, he grabbed his shoes and stumbled out into the snow. His jacket was, sadly, left in the wash.Probably still soggy, since it was never run through the dryer. Easily, Snowdin’s wind blew through his tee but the skeleton tried not to shiver in the presence of these two monsters.  
  
“No jacket? Figures. You skeletons can’t feel anything right?”  
  
Sans nodded his head, just out of habit. He quickly locked the door behind him, trying to blindly secure the locks with his magic from the other side. Boss would be safe, right? Undyne had already started to walk away.   
  
“Reminds me~Pap never bothered to dress up for the weather. Must be nice~ me? I’m dying every time I come out to this place.” Undyne rambles on, leading the way back to Waterfall. “Hotland is the best place to patrol.. Honestly. I told Pap he should come out and work with me over there but he insists he loves Snowd-”  
  
She’s a very strong monster to be able to turn her back on her party members… but neither Grillby nor Sans are enemies. At least, not threatening enemies. She doesn’t even wait for them to catch up. Telling her stories as she goes- she more than makes up for their silent group. Perhaps she likes hearing her own voice and voicing complaints to the wind.   
  
But Sans’ interests are elsewhere, - at the flame monster who looks a bit too warm bundled in his coat. He begins to take it off, but Sans skirts back away from him, leaving streaks in the snow under his sneakers. His heel ground dirt into the white color as Grillby stood in place, melting the snow to reveal the bright pop of green grass beneath.   
  
Neither communicated out loud but an understanding was made. An odd dance of hand waving and head shaking took place to explain what they can’t say out loud. Not that Papyrus would hear them out here. Grillby tilts his head, furrowing the ever changing flames that were presumably his brow. He buttons his coat again since Sans won't take it, and walks a few steps forward. Then quickly looks back, waiting for Sans to follow. Which the small skeleton does, with a small shiver in each step. Despite how ridiculous this might look to the passersby, like this they could keep the other safe. Not talking. Simply out of principle. Or perhaps fear….  
  
‘Respect’ seemed more like the appropriate term. Sans wanted to obey boss’s commands and Grillby respected the brothers… odd and intimate relationship.   
  
He kept his distance, as always. Respecting Sans’ space. Respecting his relationship. Respecting these unwritten rules and boundaries. Not once arguing or fighting back. This arrangement was just temporary. An awkward- ‘nice to see Papyrus hasn’t killed you yet’’- reunion. For both of them.  
  
Arriving through the entrance of Waterfall was met with a light shower of rain, but the fire monster was prepared for it. Opening a pink umbrella he’d probably gotten from the lost and found in his bar, Grillby attempted to scoot closer to Sans to shield him from the dampness. But with every attempt made, Sans would only stray further from him.  
  
Why didn’t get that this outing was an exception to their situation? Having Undyne here, between them was fine enough to explain why they were even in public together. What if someone gossiped again about how they shared an umbrella, or lent a coat? A mere hug had nearly earned Grillby a public execution!! Did he had a deathwish???  
  
So Sans scooted closer to Undyne, walking just a foot behind her as she continued her long monologue. “My hair didn’t want to cooperate this morning. Alphys said I should part it like one of her anime girls so she made me wear these ridiculous pigtails- my scalp feels like its being pulled in two!-”  
  
At least it was warmer here in Waterfall. The caverns rains brought about its own humidity which was slightly better than the chill of Snowdin. When they had arrived at the steep cliff Sans wanted to take his own precautions not to fall this time. He meekly summoned his own bone attacks and stuck them through the side of the cliff like Boss had done. He layered his, three at a time to secure a step. It was honestly taxing on his magic… but better than falling again. Boss wasn't here to protect him this time.   
  
Undyne built her own path with spears. She forged on ahead, briefly looking back to make sure Sans was following. She left her spears formed, as anchors for Sans to leech onto. Which was helpful…though Sans would have prefered real stairs. Or an elevator.   
  
Grillby seemed to dawdle by the edge of the cliff. Not inclined to come down their self made stairs. He snapped his fingers together, creating a small clone of fire with feet… he dropped it down the pit, having it illuminate the drop for all of the ten seconds before it extinguished itself. That didn’t bode well…   
  
Up until now, Undyne never bothered to ask Grillby if he needed help climbing up and down the pit. And to be honest, Sans had never seen the barkeep ever use his own attacks for anything more than cooking. Surprising them both, Grillby squares in his shoulders like a skydiver and jumps down.   
  
His light flickers and fades in the distance down. Disappearing into the darkness. Sans gulps. Surely, the monster wasn’t dead…. But damn how was anyone supposed to know for sure?? All he could do was continue, step by step, down the self made ladder Undyne was building for them.   
  
At last on solid ground Sans collapsed to his knees, having enough sense to remember to bugs and kept his head off the soil. The critters owned the place down here. Sans’ knees wobbled with the strain of jumping and climbing and using his magic fur extra support. The way up would be just as hard… he wasn't looking forward to it.   
  
Grillby looked like he survived. The fireball approached them with a slow wave, meeting up with the two on the cavern floor. “Pretty brave of you to jump, chump!” Undyne punched his shoulder playfully. “Break your ankle on the way down?” Undyne laughed and again punched his arm. For whatever reason, she didn’t wait for Grillby to respond...assuming the monster to be mute. As she led on in the dark to the bunker.   
  
Grillby was always the silent type at the bar. Listening to problems while pouring another scotch… he was easy to open up too. Maybe a bit too easy.   
  
Sans wondered for a minute how many times he had drunkenly placed his trust in Grillby. Idiots could talk forever when they weren’t interrupted…. Undyne was one of them. And Sans -given enough drinks- was one too.   
  
He wondered what secrets he had spilled, when they entered the giant metal casing Undyne had set up as their training area. Sans was used to it now- the melancholy innards of what was once a great technical civilization…. But he wouldn’t have time to be in awe or study its material. Undyne might attack him at any moment, and Sans was prepared. - in a sense.   
  
He had used a lot of his magic earlier just to get down here and breakfast didn’t seem to be included in this training. He wouldn’t need magic anyway… just enough stamina to dodge attacks until Undyne was done with him. She wouldn’t kill him. Not purposefully. It would be okay. He kept an eye trained on her as she settled and started stretching.  
  
Sans flicked his attention over to Grillby, the monster was undressing. Setting down his umbrella and coat by the hatch door. “Alright!” Undyne yells, her voice reverberating off the enclosed space. “Give me twenty.”   
  
..twenty...w hat? Sans looked behind himself for something to pick up or fetch. Did she mean pushups? The ground below him was just loose sediment that had settled into the broken bunker upon its crash. It was sharp and angular, but Sans got to his hands and knees and readied himself in the position for a single push up.  
  
The moment he’s upright his entire weight shifts to his forearms and toes. It was hard enough to remain in that position but soon after the sediment gives below him, making him slide parallel and fall. His chin bumps the gravel on the way down and Sans faceplants into the dirt.   
  
“One.” Sans groans.   
  
Undynes boots crunch in the gravel and approach him, nervously Sans clambers to his ass before she can stab him while he’s down. She squats in front of him, giving the skeleton a long and awkward view at her thic thighs.   
  
“Um…” Sans looks towards Grillby, making sure the other wasn’t sneaking up on him. The other is just smoking, sitting at the edge of the entrance so he could blow the smoke away and not bother them. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the monsters he’d been left with… but this whole training camp thing seemed dangerous when Boss wasn’t here. “Yes? ...Ca...Captain?” What did she want?  
  
Sitting idly, so close to Sans didn’t bode well and the captain wore a pensive look on her face. It was the look of disappointment. Being Papyrus’ older brother the bar was set pretty high and though the whole underground ridiculed him, Undyne somehow found potential in him. Now that hope seemed dashed. “ Nevermind. Get up.” She commands. “Instead, take a lap.”  
  
Sans scrunched his face up and looked around the perimeter of the base. That seemed a lot easier… he wondered what her plan was here. Obviously Sans wasn’t going to build any muscle doing this.  
  
Regardless, he nodded his head and moved to the topmost part of the ellipse to begin his run.   
  
\---  
At home, an hour after his brother had left for training, Papyrus had just gotten up. He was sluggish today, alone in the house he didn’t have to put up a farce for anyone. Climbing that vertical cliff with Sans over his shoulder, walking back through the underground, staying still in a booth despite feeling the marrow run down his spine… Papyrus endured a lot until he finally got a first look at the wound in the public bathroom. It was humiliating.  
  
The great and terrible Papyrus- injured by his own attack. He ripped a wad of paper towels from the bathroom dispenser and kept blotting out the blood, wrapping his injury in the stale newspaper-like brown sheets- only to take those same dirty napkins with him back home. Afraid to let anyone know.   
  
Anyone but his brother… of course. Sans was supposed to heal him. Papyrus rubbed his chin, as he hovered above the bathroom sink, and tried to think of a time when Sans had ever killed. His body started to follow his morning routine, picking out his toothbrush and listlessly going through the motions to brush his teeth. Maybe Sans wasn’t so useless after all. If he had managed to kill something… maybe Undyne’s training would actually pay off. He spit in the sink and took another look at his ribs. Still tender, they weren’t as pink and swollen as the night before. That was something.   
  
He hobbled down the stairs, using the railing for more support than he’d like to admit. It was easy to act tough in front of the captain, but today Papyrus was honestly thinking of going back to bed. But he needed breakfast first, the little health boost would help heal him.   
  
He noticed the house was a bit cleaner than when he left it last night. His brother was doing his chores right at least.The dishes were done, the floor swept, the living room… somewhat decent.   
He flopped down on the sofa with toast and jam and watched Mtt. The house was pretty lonely without Sans.   
  
Was this what it was like for the bone head? Day in and day out, just waiting for Papyrus to return home? He’d go stir crazy if Papyrus didn’t assign him chores! Which was exactly what Boss was feeling now, with nothing to clean, no one to cook for he settled into a state of ‘good enough’ as he popped bread in the toaster and shoveled spoonful after spoonful of jam onto it.   
  
He sat on the sofa, not quite ready to put the tv on, thinking about how quiet the house was. Perhaps he should get a gift for his pet. Something to remind Sans that he wasn’t alone, even when Papyrus was out working. He fell asleep on the sofa wearing a wicked smile, he’d talk to Sans about it when he got back.   
  
\----  
  
But Sans would never get back at this rate. The skeleton was just about to call it quits and collapse head first into the dirt. Sweat pooled through his t-shirt and dribbled off his chin. This was too much… he couldn’t go on. He saw the end… the end of everything. And his soul chittered just a little to think his torture would stop when at last he crossed that invisible threshold- “Take another lap, Sans~”  
  
Sans wheezed an incomprehensible fuck. His feet fumbled about while he ran the track again, his bones feeling heavy and slow. If he walked Undyne would already nip at his feet with a spear. This was agony! Constant running… ‘just kill me’ Sans thought. Anything would be better than running.   
  
At last his torture was completed when Undyne announced “That’s enough warm up, let’s start.” And Sans just fell to his knees and gasped for air, though skeletons didn’t need it, his body ached with the compulsion to just catch his breath. He wiped thick sweat from his brow, the salt of it stinging his eyes if he didn’t wipe it away.   
  
In the peripheral of his eyelights he caught the bright glint of fire moving. Grillby stood and approached him until they were standing five feet from each other. Waiting for Sans to at least get to his feet before he began to fight.   
  
Sans milked the last few moments of his recovery for as long as he could, trying to fake his breathing to allow him just an ounce more of mercy. Maybe Undyne would call off training if she thought Sans was too tired to continue. Sans just wanted to go home… every second with Grillby had an unbearable sense of tension and guilt. Fighting his friend too… was…  
  
Undyne could hold back… but Grillby? The idea of fighting grillby sent a tremor through his spine. Sans had never seen Grillby attack anyone, not with his own eyes, but he’d heard rumors. Brutal, terrible, rumors. That’s why the monster was respected in the underground. That’s why no one would start trouble in his bar, lest they piss him off.   
  
Until boss did.   
  
The way Grillby refused to talk to him… maybe it was out of a mutual respect. After all, Boss told him not to speak to Sans or he’d kill him. But the way the blue flame kindled in the room, rolled up bar sleeves and eyes angled like a villain… Sans thought maybe the silence was for another reason.   
  
Maybe Grillby was angry.   
  
Maybe he actually wanted to fight Sans.   
  
To get revenge… it’s a thought that had been turning in his head since he saw the flames man this morning. How could Grillby ever forgive him? Why would he?  
  
They weren’t friends… no matter how much Sans tried to delude himself. He was only a customer. No. Less than a customer. He didn’t even pay for the food Grillby scrounge up for him. He was a monster to be pitied. Rift raft that flooded Grillby's bar, got drunk, and cried secrets to the other. ...the longer he waited the more doubt filled him.   
  
Maybe Boss was right.   
  
There was no such thing as kindness in this world. Everyone worked together for the sole purpose of getting something out of it. Boss and Undyne teamed up to watch each others back in their cutthroat race to maintain at the top. Undyne kept Sans alive only to secure her relationship with Papyrus. And Grillby probably only fed him to hear drunken secrets and blackmail Papyrus.   
  
Sans was the weak link in his brothers armor… he knew that. He knew anyone would use any means to knock Pap down a peg. Grillby’s stoic and silence spoke volumes. Hatred and a waning patience… At least in Sans mind it did.   
  
Grillby was just as tall as Boss, just as ominous as his brother. He’d probably be beat to a pulp… wouldn’t be the first time. This was a fight he obviously couldn’t win. Every fight… was a fight he couldn’t win. He wasn’t sure what the plan here was but he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. Sans stood up, wobbly with his legs tired, and summoned a bone to his hand for decoration more than combat.   
  
Showing he was ready.   
  
In a split second, Grillby changed the tone of their battle. Flicking his arms out, his bluish flames coaxed the very ground he stood on, like liquid fire, the flames washed over their battlefield. Sans whacked at it with his attack, swinging his bone like a club. But the attack doesn't hit. Sans is sure it doesn’t because the bone doesn’t disappear from the collision.   
  
He tries again, trying to pry the fire away from him but it wasn’t working. His only option was to retreat. Every step Sans took back, the flames consumed. Sans panicked, this wasn’t a normal attack he could just bat away or dodge. Fire latched onto everything in the shed, it walled Undyne away from their fight, and drove Sans into the edge of the oval room, running out of footing.   
  
Undyne was livid, on the other side of the flames, she couldn’t see the space inside the pseudo arena Grillby made. She demanded to be let in, and when that didn't work, she tried to force her way in, only to be ejected by the flame. Its property bending like rubber.   
  
Sans stared in awe, unsure how to deal with such an odd element. He had to think himself out of this… Fire that burned, yet poured like water, became intangible at an attack, but also became flexible enough to hold and push Undyne out of bounds. What the hell was he supposed to do? How could he hit something like that?!  
  
Sans was getting more than a little nervous. Grillby wasn’t actually going to hurt him … was he? The way the fire monster stalked him into a corner, and silently watched his every movement was reminiscent of a predator. Grillby hadn’t made a single move to attack him, but Sans’s retreat wasn’t working.   
  
Sans opened his mouth, gulped and instead called for Undyne. “U...undyne?” He cautiously called the captain, unwilling to talk to Grillby. “Captain? I wa..want. Want.tt-to stop!” Suddenly Sans felt a new fear claw through his spine as the fire ran rampant along the walls and ceiling. Unrestrained and powerful and without mercy.   
  
Fire was terrifying. “Stop.Stop! Please?” It was getting hard to breath. “T- ttime out!” Air was scarce, his chest hurt. It hurt in a different way, not hard, like when his chest would rise and sink when someone got near. Not like an elephant stomping on his ribs when he suffered an anxiety attack. His throat constricted and sweat drept from his neck. This was panic. Pure raw panic from fear of death.   
  
The heat of the fire was eating at the oxygen in the room. Sans sweltered… gulping dryly in his throat. He had no more room to move back. There was no other option now. He had to stand his ground. Sans winced his eyes shut and flung a bone attack towards Grillby. Missed. Another. Missed. Grillby is a no more than a foot away from him now and Sans sweats in the blistering heat. Starting at Grillby, even though he’s been trying so desperately to avoid looking and talking to the monster.   
  
And Grillby reaches out… ever so slowly with a claw of fire. Flames flickering in Sans’s eyelights as he’s helpless to do anything more than watch as those talons approach him. Closer and closer. This was it. He was going to strangle him. Forget training. Grillby was out for blood. He’d never been so terrified to meet his end. He thought boss would be the one to kill him. Or a lesser known monster searching for a quick exp boost. Not him. Never him!   
  
He’s already long closed the distance of what was uncomfortable for Sans’ haphephobia, but it doesn’t trigger an attack. Not when his body was full on in fight or flight mode. Okay. This was not okay. This was not training… and Undyne couldn’t protect him. Sans breathes quickly, summoning a bone but it materializes only as a fragment. He shoots it regardless, this time hearing the soft *tink* as an attack lands.   
  
-3 damage.   
  
Sans pales. His breathing was getting shorter and shorter to the point he’s panting, but he stops all at once. The air caught in his throat when he sees that pathetic damage. He thought he could only do 1 point of damage… but this wasn’t something to celebrate either. That attack does nothing to Grillby. Merely stalling his outstretched claw as he realizes he’s taken damage.   
  
Sans quakes in fear, not sure why Grillby stopped at all. The flame monster clearly had an advantage. Was he actually hurt? Was he shocked? Angry? Humiliated? Boss would have a fit when he came home with a single scratch some rooky gave to him. It was sloppy of a warrior to get such a cheap wound. He hit Grillby. He really hit Grillby! Sans melts on the floor, feeling hot liquid spurring down his pant leg.   
  
Grillby seems to snap out of his shock - resuming his task to snap Sans’ neck. His fingers edge closer. So close Sans wheezes and squeaks without air, going cross eyed as Grillby’s claw touched his bare bone and flicked the bridge of his nasal cavity.   
  
…  
  
...

“...boop.”   
  
Grillby folded his arms and let a tiny apprehensive smile spread across his flaming face. He sat down to a knee, then the other, until he was planted on the floor with the other. Waiting for Sans to catch up as the small skeleton shook in place, tears streaming down his face and lukewarm piss hitting his sneakers. 

  
~*~*~*~

For a minute and a half, Sans only felt pure panic throughout his body. His soul was beating so loudly in drowned out all sound, and his bones were rattling so fast he could be playing the intro to through the fire and flames- which was exactly where he was trapped right now. There was no way of Undyne getting in- and no way for Sans to get out. This arena created by Grillby’s power was the only thing in his vision. Flames seared as high as the bunker’s ceiling and sealed off all exits. 

To make matters worse, Grillby -the monster that started this panic attack and fear for his life- was holding him now tight in his arms. Apologizing profusely. Words that Sans unmistakingly heard and when he snapped back to his senses his first instinct was to cover his ear drums. 

Grillby spoke.  
Grillby spoke to him.

Like a child trying to block out an adult, Sans pressed the palms of his hands flush against the side of his head and shook his skull back and forth. He didn’t hear this! It wasn’t happening! Boss said never to talk to Grillby! And Boss almost killed Grillby for talking to him! And Grillby almost killed him a moment ago-! But now he was hugging him and apologizing and - AAAAA!!!!

There was an overload of conflicting thoughts in his head right now. Each one sent him into a deeper spiral of confusion and panic. So petrified, he didn’t even realize that Grillby is holding him - and he’s not vomiting. Not screaming. 

He couldn’t escape if he wanted too. His legs felt like jelly and his face burned with the embarrassment of pissing himself. Hot globs of tears rolled down his cheeks- unable to stop hiccuping and crying because just a moment ago he swore he was going to die and he had no clue what to do with that panic now that it seemed like some prank Grillby pulled!

Each tear sizzles into nothingness when it rolls down his chin and droplets catch on Grillby’s arm. The fire monster’s flames are hot, but they don’t burn Sans. Not at all. The precise control of flames is what keeps Undyne out, and Sans alive. 

“Sansy, I’m sorry for scaring you!- please don’t cry… You’re okay. You’re okay…” Gently he’s rocked in Grillby’s lap. His skull pressed against the fire monsters chest until he can hear that soul’s drumming throughout his core. 

It's nothing like the chaos of his own beating soul- hammering so loud like it meant to escape from his ribs. Grillby’s soul is soft, delicate. It's rhythm is soft, like the drip of rain that occasionally hits the side of a bucket from their leaky roof. That calm pulse is what restored Sans back to reality. And he slowly put his hands back down and clutched each of his own arms in a need for self preservation. 

Grillby's whispers lulled by his skull. Apologizing for scaring him. Apologizing for this panic attack. And wishing Sans was would be okay soon. 

There are other, less kind, words being shared from over the perimeter of the wall of flames as Undyne tries to brute force her way inside but is pushed back by the magic surrounding them. She realized something was wrong when Sans was begging for this to stop and now she’s urgently hissing at Grillby not to kill the runt. 

Sans can’t make a sound higher than a squeak to respond back to her… or Grillby. Talking to Grillby was forbidden. Boss would really kill him next time. And Sans… Sans couldn’t disobey boss. Even for a silly promise… Boss always found out. 

“Are you better now?” 

The sudden fear of dusting, the explosive panic attack, the broken rules, the excessive touch… was an overload for Sans that kept him petrified from responding back. He wanted to push off from Grillby immediately and regain his personal space. He wanted to change his pants too.. But that would never happen. And with his face burning he realises, he’s sitting on Grillby’s lap despite a soaked pair of shorts and tears globbing down his face. 

“Did you pass out?...” Grillby is up in his face suddenly, checking his hollowed eyelights for any sort of movement. Sans gasps. Fuck he’s so close to Grillby. Somehow having his face so close is closer than actually touching and being against his chest because now there's a person here. 

Grillby knew him. He knew Sans hated to be touched. He and half the underground had seen his brother publicly beat him and kick him into submission. And Grillby kept his drunken secrets about what happened at home… horrors that Sans had forgotten he’d ever told the barkeep. 

Touching was something traumatic for Sans. Everyone in the underground knew that, because if they even bumped shoulders with the guy there would be an alarm of screaming and that only drew Papyrus to dust a fucker. 

But touch was also healing… Grillby thought. Even though he knew Sans hated to be held, how else was he supposed to calm the monster through an episode? It was a tricky balance to keep in mind… and as soon as he saw the pin pricks of red come back to Sans’s eyes Grillby shuffled him down from his lap and took a wide step back. Sitting on the floor again, waiting for Sans to be okay. 

“...Sansy?” A small tremble at least signaled that the skeleton heard him. “I didn’t mean to scare you… I’m not going to hurt you okay? I just… wanted a chance for us to talk alone. Had to make it look convincing. But.. you know me. You know I wont hurt you.” 

Sure. Sure. Sans nodded but he really wasn’t sure about that. He was certain before Grillby was going to kill him. And boss’s voice rung in his head. ‘There’s no such thing as friends’ and ‘kindness doesn’t exist in this world’. Sans couldn’t help but feel like that was the truth. Boss always protected him… he should trust what he says too.


End file.
